


"Of Darkness"

by chroniclesofatimelord



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, The Dwellers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 16:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10857438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chroniclesofatimelord/pseuds/chroniclesofatimelord
Summary: "Of Darkness" is written by Robert J. Meddings. Part of the first season of stories starring the female Doctor.The story is set inside a retirement home for writers, artists and actors. It is called Ravenscar and this place is hiding something beyond its gentle walls which care for the very elderly. Something evil is brewing here and the Doctor must find out what it is.This place is modeled after a nursing home a friend of mine Craig has lived in. For some reason, nursing homes always makes me feel uneasy. I find them to be spook central in many cases.





	"Of Darkness"

"Of Darkness"  
By Robert J. Meddings

Part One  
Chapter one   
With the familiar rumble of the machine, traveling the frantic static of the universe, it moved with the persistence of an explorer. It was the titan of technology. Often it was a symbol of hope.   
The TARDIS.   
Now the thrust of engines grew with a grinding motion while the walls inside the gallivanting machine hummed with life. It seemed to be deliberate in its calm.   
Inside the gothic cathedral beauty of the TARDIS, two people were not calm. They could not settle a friendly disagreement between them.   
It was not the kind of fight you would find between two intelligent people. Sometimes it was a relief to be blessed with such fine company within the old walls.  
Commanding a presence one would often find in leaders or generals, the woman stood with an imperialistic roar of penetrating beauty. The soft midnight of hair hanged in a delicate slumber.   
She remained poised at the console while her working hands shifted over a series of buttons.   
Not annoyed.   
Perhaps a little.   
Young looking for her age. Young, and yet old. Very old. Her eyes, and a cosmic glare, offered countless years of roaming. Her countenance hid several lifetimes of experience.  
“Is there really a need for war?” the Doctor said.   
It was a topic no one could get out their heads, and yet the brooding conversation stirred off-kilter throughout the day. It changed from a simple chat to a full-blown debate needing a referee in the sidelines.   
Both people were in wars before. Each one of them saw their share of battles. There grew a sadness on her face.   
Her hands danced on the controls of the TARDIS as if looking for a meaningful diversion, and the whirling of timeless machine sauntered through the endless universe.   
“If it is for the greater good, I would say there is a need,” TJ replied.  
“To what end? The loss of lives on both ends serve no point other than profits. War is not necessary.”  
“Sometimes it brings people together with a greater cause.”  
“Or you can find powerful ways of diplomacy to avoid more violent means.”  
“Through war, you find peace,” TJ continued.   
He was a Chinese archer who joined the Doctor on her travels more than a year ago. He saved her life. And she saved his. And now they shared the comradeship of traveling as old friends.  
“There are always ways around a war. One must put in the effort of finding such solutions,” the Doctor said.   
“How many wars have you been in, Doctor? You always find yourself in the middle of a battlefield. Well?”  
“More than enough.”  
“Then tell me you must crawl through the devastation of war to find peace. Such things always have a high cost.”  
“That is unfortunately true,” the Doctor said.   
“Ask any queens, kings or generals and they'll tell you the same thing. War is necessary.”  
“I don't like admitting a necessity of violence.”  
“You do it all the time!”  
“That's because I know what I'm doing!”  
The Doctor altered a course on the console, her fingers snapping the switches with a childish banter. As she moved with skirting ease around the hexagonal shape, the rotating column in the middle roared in a lively stir.  
She couldn't keep making excuses by stirring trouble here and there. The trail of death, violence and war often followed her. She tapped the console buttons like a mad woman who just got out of a locked cage.   
She bit down softly on her lips while she grew distracted.   
She would remain distracted by piloting her craft, hearing the singsong of the machine beating with its vagrant heart. She held an expression of inspiration on her face. 

Chapter two  
“Doctor?” TJ said.   
She lifted her face towards the Asian archer who stood on the opposite side, a perfect sampling of ancient traditions in China. His strict discipline and masterful skill made him a deadly foe for many.   
This sturdy man could shoot a bullseye at hundred yards. He was a perfection of great archery. No doubt an ambassador of war if given a chance. His Chinese features were not unhandsome either.   
He remained a trite taller than most of his Asian counterparts in southern China, standing at a hefty five feet six inches.   
When the Doctor threw another switch, she heard the thrashing waking of the ship's engines taking place. The TARDIS was like a living house in space. It was the right commodity for travel. Now, finding a different course, the storm of flight took them to another world.   
“I have an idea,” the Doctor said. “Let's go someplace peaceful!”  
Was there ever such a thing?   
Though the Doctor often missed the mark of reaching the right destination. 

Chapter three  
It was an old building which spread into a hundred rooms: an endless gallery of hallways. Persisting into long memory, this was an actor's nursing home which became the final place for those forgotten souls.   
It was the place of the British's finest. The building welcomed the old guard while the world continued on without caring.   
What happened when the movie business spat out a retired actor who's done good for god and country? He came to this building to finish out the rest of his life. This was the place where their dreams came to die.   
It seemed a sad place left behind by the more brash, loud city surrounding it like a regime. This place stood in its own corner of forget-me-not. And so the building became the dumping grounds for actors.   
Oh yes, it was the dead end for the unfortunate few. Many noticed the aging spines and the blotched wooden wear along the desperate walls.   
It wasn't a haunted house, but could pass for one with its daunting shores of teeming corners and spiraling, crooked mayhem of ceilings. There was an odd quiet to this place.   
This calmness glared before it which grew stark, uneasy, like a belligerent thing. It was a wheeling, devilish slip of sadism hiding in those walls. The building yawned like a snarling dog.   
There was a shadow moving in the window.   
A shadow moving in the walls. 

Chapter four   
The TARDIS landed on the edges of a sprightly, emerald lawn where a sprawling building sat. It looked like a quiet, resting place where life crawled at a snail's pace.   
The only sound stirred from the approach of the TARDIS when it made its landing on the grassy yard. Its grinding engines strained while it filled the air like a hurricane. The TARDIS came like a storm.   
Now the clamor of the ship settled down as the gathering roar grew into a softened ramble. The blue box appeared in the middle of the green, clipped yard where few walked on. The grass was rather long. Not cut.   
No sound could be heard. The Doctor stepped out from the blue box as she looked around with a quizzical glare. She brushed the hanging lull of hair from her face as she watched the building with a passing interest. What kind of building did not have people in it? It was odd to her.   
She propelled away from the TARDIS like a torpedo, swaying with a great confidence as she took in the sights.   
She walked with wild assurance. Her jutting clothes, and wailing coat, hanged on her with a regal triumph: the straps on the coat shoulders looked bold and the imperial quality of the clothing worthy of a thousand princesses. Somehow her cutting neckline chased with a stunning beauty.   
Her companion TJ followed her out of the box as she followed at the heels of her clipping boots. He wore his usual Chinese garments while carrying the bow and quiver of arrows.   
“You won't need that,” the Doctor said.   
“I might have to protect you,” TJ said.   
“Oh, all right.”  
“You're right about one thing. This place is peaceful.”  
This retirement home regaled with a thunderous beauty as the outer walls churned with a delirious culture reminding one of the Turkish Empire. The thriving architecture became the thumbprint of longevity.   
And yet the weight of dead air pressed on. There grew a grandstanding of cemetery quiet which was chilling. Everything became an empty space trickling inside the building.   
When standing near the TARDIS, the Doctor began the impromptu game of dropping a coin on the ground. Crouching low, she grabbed the coin to begin again the process while she made her observations.   
“What are you doing?” TJ said.   
“Nothing, really. I think we should move on,” the Doctor replied.

Chapter five  
In the midst of the arched building, like a beast in a crowded jungle of the windows and walls, the retirement house resembled a beaming beacon of riches. It was a glorified heap of lavish luxury. The thrust of an expensive building teemed with a cluster of booming economy.  
This enormous building offered a quaint atmosphere in the English suburbs and was in a relaxed condition. The interior seemed done in colors that reminded you of an old-fashioned museum. The yard was engulfing around the building and was neatly-trimmed.   
A large sign on the widespread yard regarded with the ominous name: Ravenscar Manor For Retired Actors. The Doctor could see the sign without any problem.   
The Ravenscar Manor For Retired Actors. The foremost nursing home in all of England.  
Nice place.   
Bountiful, copious, it became a splendid wonder of prosperity. And yet it was a dead building echoing of nothing. The empty chill fell between the giant hallways. Not very festive.   
“You're not thinking of retiring, are you?” TJ said.  
“Very funny,” the Doctor shot back.   
“It's not a likely place for the TARDIS to go.”  
“I suggest we explore the building.”  
“So? Actors here?” TJ said.   
“Yes, people who play in different roles in front of audiences. Some of them are character actors,” the Doctor said.   
“I know who they are,” TJ piped. “But they get sidelined into a place like this?”  
“You're seeing a same kind of tragedy which happened to Amadeus. The few actors come here to eek out their last days.”  
“It is depressing.”  
“There is something else. It's definitely too quiet.”  
The Doctor entered the Ravenscar Manor through the front doors, pushing them open with a theatrical bombast. Her jutting figure stepped into the spilling hallways stretching from the east side to the other.  
No one was working either. No one at the front desk. It was as if the world had come to a stop, leaving behind this manor in a standstill.   
It was only an idle tension crippling the livelihood of the retirement home. The silence haunted the building like a ghoulish reminder of the empty crevice welcoming the strangers. The building became lifeless, too quiet.   
Nothing.  
And more nothing. 

Chapter six   
The Doctor visited the Trinity Court where the crawling silence continued to snicker without stopping. No crowds could be seen on these festive grounds. She stepped between the gaming tables to find more of nothing.  
Her curiosity leaped when she grabbed what looked like a mandarin from a bowl on the table and she peeled away the skin to take a bite. There seemed to be no one around here. It was sweet.   
“Hello?” the Doctor said.   
Still nothing.   
In a different area closer to the Trinity Court area, TJ could not find anyone shuffling around nor could he find signs of recent activity. He searched as his darting figure moved from point A to point B without much success.   
He looked in the rooms while finding some people in beds and some food left on their tables. There was something odd about them. None of them woke up to get a taste of daylight.   
Other rooms had old people sleeping soundly in their beds, left alone in the dire slumber between the sheets. None of the people woke up as he entered their rooms.   
“Hello? Hello? Anyone there?” TJ said.   
No reply expect for the spill of mute reticence. It filled the community with a departing gloom. This retirement home became more empty than a beggar's pockets. TJ didn't like this as he swore he saw moving shadows.   
Furthermore, the Doctor stood in a different place on the top of a stairs of the second floor, like some wayward priest giving a speech at a church podium. It looked desolate.  
She glanced over the barrister across the wreath of prosperity around the terrific surroundings. Her womanly figure craned at a towering height, gazing at the ground floor below.   
“Helloooooo?” the Doctor said.   
Still nothing.   
It was a dead end.   
TJ stepped into the next room of room seventy-two while poking his head through a door, and seeing someone else sleeping in his bed. That person, too, slept as if he was dead to the world. TJ stood outside the doorway as he looked around with prowling eyes.   
“Hello?” TJ piped.   
The Doctor found her friend as she stepped into the hallway.  
“That's enough,” the Doctor said to TJ. “There's absolutely no one here apart from our sleeping friends.”  
The Doctor strolled up to him as her roaming frame moved along the hallway with at a brisk pace. Her long hair danced with midnight beauty.  
Her hair brushed against her face while she bit on her lower lips in a small fit of anxiety. She loved these kinds of problems. It gave her something new to solve.   
“No one is waking up,” TJ said.  
“That is a problem.”  
“I tried waking up the person in room seventy-two, but he isn't getting up.”  
“Yes, you'll need a lot of alarm clocks to get them up.”  
“There's no one working at the front desk either.”  
“I noticed,” the Doctor said.  
“What do you think happened here?”   
“It's too soon to tell.”  
“A biological weapon to make people sleep?”   
“No, no, there would be radiation traces. I don't find any here.”  
Was the retirement home abandoned? How long was it left like this in a state of nothingness? It became a heartless building, a broken building. What was a building without its soul?  
The final quietude laid heavy in Ravenscar Manor for Retired Actors while the spiraling hallways lifted with an dispelling sigh.   
This was a building left behind like a neglected child. The cold of the air welcomed the newfound guests with a withered hug.   
There was only one thing to hope for: perhaps the sleeping people were just acting. Perhaps they were just acting like it was a good day to sleep? 

Chapter seven   
The Ravenscar manor building slept like a giant. Its indifferent breed of sulking rooms remained in silence while the hallways did not speak of any noise. The building was rich with its progress, but there was no one here to enjoy it. They fell into coma-like states.   
TJ glanced back with a feeling on the back of his neck like someone, or something, was watching him. It was a static sense that hunters would get when they felt a penetrating glare from someone else.   
His hand flew to the quiver of arrows as he spun on his heels, looking down the hall which offered a longish view. His hands held the bow and arrow while a sneaking suspicion poured into his thoughts.   
He remembered walking through a village with few people in northern China a long time ago. It was so quiet in that village. This retirement home was even more quiet. His frame broke into a stance.  
His people believed in the idea of the young people taking care of the old. Where were the young people now? There was only old people who were like the dead in their rooms.   
“What is it?” the Doctor said.   
“I think I see something,” TJ said.   
“Nonsense,” the Doctor said.   
Her face offered a gesture of disbelief... the kind of look someone had when they noticed a huge plot-hole in a novel. The Doctor shrugged her shoulders in a dismissing way.  
“I saw it!” TJ said.   
“The strange presence of an empty building could play tricks on the mind,” the Doctor said.   
“This isn't a trick.”  
“The imagination can be a tricky thing. It's when someone sees things that the mind does not comprehend. The mind can be a powerful thing.”  
“I know what I saw and there's someone down that hall.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes.”  
“I think we need to explore further,” the Doctor said.   
The Doctor looked around to find any proof in movement in the manor around her, but saw only the nothingness gathering in the strangling halls. It became a desperate quiet.   
The walls became silent spectators while the rise of the quiet retirement home grew into an alarming puzzle. It was no longer a charade. It was much more serious.

Chapter eight   
The Doctor fished out from her pocket the same coin she used before. Her head swiveled in a gentle sway as if taking in the view. She began the same process of dropping the coin like she did near the TARDIS.   
Picking it up to repeat the method, she found it was like someone playing a game in which no one else was invited. Her face shifted into a different expression. She dropped the coin in the middle of the hallway.  
“How long are you going to play flip the coin?” TJ said.   
“Do you mind? It's in the name of science!” the Doctor quipped.   
“We could be tracking down the intruder.”  
“Wait a moment because I think this might correlate with what is going on here. There's a definite possibility of someone being here.”  
“What changed your mind?”  
The Doctor sank lower to fetch the coin from the ground, holding it between her fingers as she looked at it.   
She seemed very imperialistic today, the regal clothing hanging on her with devastating seriousness. She craned her neck as she offered a blazing glare at her friend. Her face grew serious too.   
“There's a discrepancy here,” the Doctor said. “And there's something else. I drop the coin near the TARDIS without noticing anything. Here, however, the coin seems to take a fraction sooner to hit the ground as if something is tugging at it.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“There seems to be a time shift here,” the Doctor said. “It's like someone opened the door to a different world and forgot to close it.”

Chapter nine  
“You're sure?” TJ said.   
“Positive. I need to investigate this.”  
“You're saying someone is messing with time here?”  
“Of sorts. Someone is stepping in and out between the seconds and leaving cracks in the shadows. I don't like this.”  
He could see the Doctor busied herself with the current situation as she dragged out the sonic screwdriver to take some readings. The buzzing hum wailed delightfully while she poked the device in the air..   
She was working some physics in her head too while she scanned the area. With the ease of a surgeon holding a scalpel, the Doctor motioned the screwdriver while the building were swallowed with erroneous gloom.   
Her parade of movements contained a few swapping, darting glances, her neck craning and a steady stare possessed with interest. She turned around to face her friend again with a parting smile.   
The retirement home became a place of sadness. Bad food, no good TV, and the spoils of the atmosphere. And yet the silence in the retirement home wasn't natural.   
The Doctor checked on one of the residents of the retirement home in room forty-two, an old man who laid in his bed like a hibernating Rip Van Winkle. His face shifted to the right as if glaring at the window.  
His room was filled with old movie posters hanging on the walls, and a wheelchair parked near the corner. There sat a few crooked books on the shelf.   
The Doctor checked his pulse, his eyes, everything from top to bottom. Her hand wrestled with the sonic screwdriver while hoping to find answers which did not come.   
“Nothing seems wrong with this gentleman,” the Doctor announced. “Except that he's fast asleep as if in a coma.”  
“Will he come out of it?”  
“It could take days, weeks or even months to wake from a coma. He won't be in a talking mood. It is just like the man in room one-thirteen also in a coma.”  
“Maybe this is the hall for the comatose.”  
“No, it isn't. I think there is something very, very wrong here.”  
“Seems like everyone is sleeping the day off,” TJ added.   
“Yes. I need to get some things from the TARDIS,” the Doctor said. “I'll be setting up something, so we need to meet again right here.”  
“All right, I'll go after our culprit while you fiddle around with your gadgets,” TJ said. “I don't want to lose him.”  
“Might be dangerous,” the Doctor pointed out.   
“No worries.”  
“If you see something, don't engage,” the Doctor said. “I'm still not sure what is going on here.”  
“Do you think there's something here?” TJ asked.   
“Sometimes there exist things more evil than men,” the Doctor said.   
“Great. That sounds optimistic.”  
TJ moved along the string of rooms like a man on a mission. On the other hand, the Doctor darted down the hallway back to the old grounds where the TARDIS sat like a prop out of place.   
A blue prop in the green. The TARDIS. Its old, shoddy shell did not mesh well with the rich building standing with a towering elegance.   
And TJ was left alone on his own. 

Chapter ten  
His footsteps shuffled as he moved down the building's regime of old and new hallways, and made himself a tour of the place. TJ would take on the entire retirement to find his intruder.   
He knew how the Doctor was walking back to the TARDIS with a cheery optimism while he forced himself to go with a brooding persistence. TJ settled on the idea of cutting into an alcove.   
Here the walls seemed to collapse on themselves like dragging shadows, and the twinkling excess of sepulchral comfort caught the dead end of the narrow halls.   
Something poured through the strange rhythm of the Ravenscar Manor for Retired Actors, offering a bragging antiquity hiding strangers. Dejected, moping walls continued to thread like a maze.   
His hand pulled the arrow from the quiver with a leaping instinct. He was like a tiger in a jungle of the building. His foot pressed against the ground with a delicate touch while the heat clutched at the back of his neck like a perturbed kiss.   
His defenses were up like a real hunter, going forward, his courage snapping with grace. His form anchored along the walls as he moved along them like a shadow, keeping to the background of the written horrors of the empty city. This alien world.   
TJ held the bow and arrow in his hands with expert ease as he followed along the alcove, a shambling form of warrior build, moving deeper still into the will of the building's blackest heart.   
This place was not congested with life. It was the same feeling one would have when walking through a graveyard. There grew an arcane chill in the rich-crowned buildings like fleeting ghosts.   
The ill of the walls, and the dampened vigor of the hallways, offered a desperate residence. The silence became a nagging thing.   
And now a patter of footsteps!  
TJ heard it!  
Who was it? 

Chapter eleven  
Down the hallway with the perspiring blackness, trailing from the edges, the far end of the maze shifted with an earnest beckoning. There was a hallway A and a hallway B with an open, large space in between.   
There sat the only man who seemed to be still active, and an eccentric one at that.   
Crouching deeper into his chair, his hands huddled around the beach ball, was a tiny man. His eyes showed no expression of thought. Next to him was his room with his name tag across the door: Ernie Kovacs.   
A sadness hanged in his tiny features. He's always expecting someone to play beach ball with him. His coddled frame remained in the chair while the rest of the retirement home remained quiet.   
To think he had been an actor or someone at one time. So sad.   
TJ saw Ernie toss the beach ball at him, letting the ball roll across the floor with a slump, slump, slump. It rolled nonchalantly across the floor towards the Chinese archer.   
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. The beach ball rolled.   
Lowering himself to pick up the beach ball, TJ tossed it back into the little man's hands. Ernie caught the ball with the small nudge of daring fingers while his empty glare poured on. It was the only thing he knew.   
Ernie threw the ball once more letting it bounce across the floor in timid bursts. He didn't seem to have anything other than having a brain of a child. It was as if Ernie was comatose in the mind already.  
“That's your schtick, huh?” TJ said.   
The ball scrawled with small beats while TJ watched something brush over it like a long shadow. His eyes lifted up to see movement as he looked up from the floor to the disturbed hallway.   
TJ stopped the rolling ball as he looked down the hall for the movement of a shadow. It was a figure which looked like a dark blotch, shifting with a laughing sneer.   
“What the hell?” TJ said. “Did you see that?”   
Though Ernie did not see anything because he wanted the beach ball back in his possession. He was in his place of comfort while he didn't seem to understand the darkness moving.   
There was only a blank look in his face.   
TJ saw the shadow pouring through the hall like a sudden intruder. There was, indeed, something in the retirement hall that didn't belong here.   
Something beastly moved around in a form of a man, or what looked like a shadow with no face. It was a spirited menace which disappeared down the end of the hall.   
TJ broke off after giving the beach ball back to Ernie, stepping down the hallway with hopes of catching up with the shadow. Ernie seemed happy about having the beach ball in his hands again.   
“Did you see him?” TJ said.   
Ernie remained quiet.   
“Can you hear me?” TJ said. “The strange man in black? Did you get a good look at him?”  
It looked like Ernie didn't care either way. He cuddled his beach ball, hugging it as if it was his own baby. His eyes grew inexpressive, blank. Nothing escaped his lips except a gentle stir.  
“It makes me cry,” Ernie whimpered.   
TJ knew the man was a derelict, and the archer decided to move down the hallway without Ernie's help. He chased after the shadow which lingered in the manor building.

Chapter twelve  
The Doctor became distracted.  
On the way to the TARDIS, she heard something in the corridor. A noise? Stopping in her tracks, she decided to look into it.   
She ignored the congested silence which spun into the manor's halls and beyond. The iconic nothingness fell between the empty-looking rooms sitting in the hall. This place did not have a spot of movement.  
The Ravenscar Manor became a personal shrine to bygone actors.  
What happened to them?   
Why were they all in comas?  
No doubt the Doctor needed to keep her eyes peeled. She could feel the walls closing in while Ravenscar held secrets in itself that she didn't care for. What was on her mind now?  
What of the comatose? They always gave that department-store dummy glare in their faces. What things were in the building that could make an entire population go to sleep? It was inconceivable.   
Or at least she thought so.  
She found some of the comatose people were dead. “Died in their sleep” was the old saying. And nothing could be truer than this. The Doctor found they were like empty shells left to rot.   
It was time for track down the intruder. She tried using her sonic device as she scanned the room.  
Why did she pick this room?   
The Doctor knew the man in one-thirteen was still in a coma state, so there may be still time to save him. She found that his mind, too, was drained like the others. It was chilling.   
She was like a detective offering an accusing stare. Perhaps this was the way the manor greeted the womanly intruder. She heard the gadget swirling, making adjustments to record any movements by sound. 

Chapter thirteen  
The retirement building for actors seemed old as its fine reputation of has-beens between these walls. Though there was something wrong with the people in their beds. Old, perhaps. Not dead. Somewhere halfway in their private limbo? Between life and death?   
Was this purgatory?  
When the Doctor checked the room one-thirteen, where the man laid up in his cot, she used the sonic device to scan the area. Not satisfied, she finally scanned the resident of one-thirteen.  
His face slouched into a mimicking deadness. Her sonic device roared with a hum while she peeled away his thoughts. His breath hanged on a thread while his hands remained between the soft comfort of sheets.   
She followed the readings of the sonic screwdriver which caused her eyebrows to lift. The Doctor shifted the device over the resting man once again to make sure.   
The results were boggling.   
It seemed the man's brains carried no signals, and should be dead. And yet he was still alive as if a victim caught in proverbial spider's web. It was like his mind was completely emptied.   
There was some noise from the closet behind her. She turned around as she pointed the sonic screwdriver at the pair of wooden doors. The Doctor stayed cautious as she approached, simple, easy steps.   
With a swiping motion, her free hand grasping the door, she opened the closet which yawned into a dim section of dried towels, wicker baskets and something else.   
The Doctor discovered an old man crumbled in the corner with a silver cooking bowl over his head and his hands holding a broomstick like a knight's sword. He sat between the stacks of clothing and a shambling bin. He looked up at her with a dirty grin, looking ridiculous wearing his “hat.”  
“Blimey,” the Doctor said.   
“How do you do?” the old man said. “I wasn't sure if you're one of them.”  
“Them?”  
“We had a few visitors last night. I wouldn't call them friendly.”  
“Would you mind getting out of the closet?” the Doctor said. “I feel a bit silly talking to you in there.”  
“Yes, of course, pet,” he said.   
The old man eased his way out from the closet space, his shoulders a little bent. His frame was none too impressive, though his narrow eyes still sparked a fire of youth from his younger days.   
Under the cooking bowl, his gray hair parted to the right as if he tried to train it in a certain way, but his face twisted into an expression like a hangover. His Englishness started with the loose accent he carried in his speech.  
He wore the elbow-patched blazer which hanged on him like a poor sampling in fashion.  
He wore rags for clothing that made him a proud part of the poverty-stricken. His pants went through a nasty war or two, looking like it would tear anytime soon. His tie dangled like something stomped on.   
“Well, I do think introductions would be good,” the Doctor said. “What is your name?”  
“You may have heard of me! My name is Kent Dashing!”  
“Not really,” the Doctor replied. “Should I have?”  
“I used to be in the movies, pet. I was one of the more prolific actors out there during the hey day.”  
“Is that so?”   
“They used to call me the British Humphrey Bogart,” Kent said.   
The Doctor gave him a disbelieving look.   
Kent forged ahead into a human tornado of words, “Oh yes, have you heard of the Jungle Mime? Or maybe the movie Horror in the Alley? Maybe the Broken Souls?”  
“Not really.”  
“I had been doing horror movies during the sixties and seventies. Very comparable to the Vincent Price stuff. I'm proud of myself.”  
“I haven't seen any of them. I'm sorry.”  
“That's a shame, pet. I was at the height of popularity at the time. The women couldn't resist me.”  
“That's all very fine except for one thing,” the Doctor pointed out. “I'm not your pet. Do you mind?”  
“Sure thing, pet.”  
The Doctor grew annoyed at the old man standing before her, but she stifled her expression before getting to the heart of the matter. She tugged at her clothes while clearing her throat.   
“Whatever. Can you tell me what happened here? And, please, skip over the mundane details,” the Doctor said.   
Kent seemed distracted for a moment, his face twisting with an expected note as if waiting for something to occur. He might as well have the word guilt taped to his forehead in large, neon letters. It seemed the guy couldn't bluff his way out of a paper bag.   
Now the Doctor noticed Kent's eyes wandered over her shoulder, and she turned just in time to see an intruder behind her. She stopped the attacker's umbrella from hitting her, hand snapping around assailing weapon.   
She ripped the umbrella from the man's grasp, leaving him empty-handed. The Doctor gave the second old man a rude shove with the flat of her hands, growing imperialistic.   
The Doctor said, “You were going to hit me with an umbrella? Seriously? What is going on?” 

Chapter fourteen  
As he stepped up the pace beneath the canopy of shadows, putting himself into the patched makeshift of darkness, the runaway foe moved in and out of the hallways splitting off like some raid creature—the running alcoves stretching outward into a arena of sunlit rooms.   
TJ turned right, left and moved down a different corridor snaking through the retirement home's corridors. He felt the slumber of darkness laughing at him. Something about the shadows were ripping apart.   
“Stay where you are!” TJ said.   
Could a shadow attack him?  
He felt something spit past at him as he stepped sideways into safety, avoiding the piercing fingers as it pegged the wall behind him. TJ could see out of the corner of his eye where the fingernail was raked from.  
Even the fingernails shot out!  
It reminded him of the pygmies shooting out darts from blow guns to poison an intended victim. Except this was a fingernail.   
It looked like a phantom with cruel eyes, and the rest of him was a sneaking shadow.   
“Stop!” TJ shouted.   
He lifted the bow with a swiftness as he saw the shadow man rush across the narrow hallway, a darting presence wearing a blackish skin. His face remained hidden by the rather daunting glitch of darkness.   
TJ let his arrow spring in a bolting action, cutting into the wind with a deadly whistle. He was attempting to pin the man's leg, but it only caught a piece of the skin instead. A small part of the pitch-black foil hanged against the wall... a sure enough proof. The intruder was fast.   
The intruder was real enough, and so the retirement home was not abandoned like it was once believed. TJ reached for the next arrow to make target practice of the running man. His fingers did not twitched as he held the arrow in the niche.  
“I could do this all day,” TJ said. 

Chapter fifteen  
TJ took a few steps while darting like a panther, his feet moved with muted eagerness. He almost waited for someone to jump out at him. Setting himself again, his fingers tightened as he skirted around the corner to prepare for a match.   
And yet, stepping around the corner, TJ fell into a stance while pulling the bowstring with a delicate thunder for release. There was nothing in the next alcove as if the intruder vanished into thin air. Only a hallway sat with a haunting grip. There was nothing down this way.  
Nothing at all.   
Perhaps shadows could disperse like a cloud of mystery. Whatever else, TJ could not find any more activity. He was disappointed in not taking out the slippery foe. Now where had he gone?   
“Where are you?” TJ muttered. Mostly to himself.   
When the Chinese archer tried to dig deeper into the long, trailing hallway littered with shadows, he heard a scraping of footsteps behind him. It was too late for him to confront the intruder who was a better hunter than he.  
TJ could feel the storming of the sharp fingernails lifting near his throat, but poised in mid-air without a ready cut. TJ let loose a wailing elbow which socked into his assailant's chest, but the creature's talons inched closer to his neck.   
His foe made a self-congratulatory snort as he held the gleaming talons of his hand to TJ's neck, ready to sever his neck.   
There was no conversation. No small talk exchanged. TJ felt the other shadow man knocking him down with a rampaging fist. The force of the hit, delivering like some aimless wrecking ball of savagery.   
His attacker said with glee, “You'll come with me.”  
It sounded like it spoke from the bottom of an ocean.   
It seemed this fiend was a friend of the dark, using the shadows to hide him. While laying down his bow and arrow, TJ could see a skeletal man shuffling like some staggering thing awful thin.   
Something was wrong with his face. All TJ could see were teeth. A frightful gallery of teeth. The shadow man moved as rushing fingers cut into the archer's neck with a swiftness. He felt a pinch.   
TJ felt a sleepingness slipping into him as he dropped to the ground. TJ could do nothing except obey his crude captor as he fell into the prison of his sleep. He could sleep all day.  
The voices in the silence seemed more frightening now. 

Part Two  
Chapter sixteen  
The other man moved like something of a klutz, a little awkward on his feet. Something told the Doctor that the guy never became a ballad dancer due to his slight lack of coordination. Or it could be due to old age.   
He was a slightly wider man with a spare tire around his belly, his sincere face pampered with a cheerful effect. He wore suspenders, a patched trousers and shirt which dangled on him like a Wal-Mart special. This old man did have an honest face which was nice for a change.   
“I'm sorry” her attacker cried. “We weren't sure. We couldn't be too careful!”   
“So you spend your time sneaking up on people?” the Doctor said.   
“It was the only way to protect ourselves!”  
“Don't blame Felton for this,” Kent said. “It's not his fault.”  
“That's all right,” the Doctor said. “I'm not used to getting this much attention.”  
“There are things that move in the dark!” Felton said.   
However, the old man named Felton began to cry as tears poured from his eyes like a river of misery. His glare was fixed with fear which darted with twisting, foreboding horror, gasping like he got one too many hear attacks. Or perhaps he was crying because someone might help him.   
Kent and Felton looked like both of them watched a festival of horror movies last night and still couldn't shake off the bad feelings. Felton's face grew wet with tears.   
Kent walked over to comfort his friend while the Doctor watched, her hands dropping into her pockets.   
“Oh, Great Gallifrey! There's one thing I can't stand is watching a grown man cry,” the Doctor complained. 

Chapter seventeen  
Making his way through the corridors, walking alongside the Doctor and his friend Felton, Kent moved through the hallways like one of those video game characters trying to get around the bit-sized blocks on a gaming screen. He felt confused, afraid.   
They stopped in the middle of the hallway.  
He continued to stare along the rows of rooms, taking a detour to a room which sat inside the eastern wing. These people slipped into a coma from which there were no escape.   
He was afraid that he would soon join them.   
Kent ignored the passing breeze rushing by through a hall window, and he spun towards the Doctor with a worried look.   
In his thoughts, Kent reached into depths of his own mind while thinking of his friend Corliss Evans. He missed lovely smile, and the gentle gleam of her eyes. She lived in room forty-five.   
Poor Corliss was one of the first victims of the long sleep.   
No doubt Kent needed to keep his eyes peeled for intruders. Kent could feel the walls closing in while he held secrets in himself that he didn't care for. What was on his mind now? Too much for an old man to handle.   
Next to him was the Doctor leaning against the wall. Her eyes locked with Kent's like a detective offering a knowing stare. Perhaps this was the way the womanly intruder greeted everyone?   
With an instinctive leap, Kent spun on his feet like an actor preparing for his greatest acting ever. He didn't trust the Doctor at all. None at all. His face felt a stinging of tension.   
“Have you seen a Chinese man going past you before?” the Doctor asked the two old men.   
“Not that I remember,” Felton said.   
“Not many Chinese folks walking around here,” Kent said. “I'd remember.”  
“I'm wondering if my friend will show up,” the Doctor said.   
“He's bound to show up sooner or later,” Kent replied. “This nursing home isn't that big a place.”  
“I hope you're right,” the Doctor said.   
“You'll see. He'll show up when you least expect.”  
“My friend TJ is a resourceful one. I do hope he's all right.”  
“That's positive thinking, pet!”  
“You seem to have a lot of interests,” the Doctor said. “Acting, for one.”  
“Yes, I do. Nothing wrong with that,” Kent said.   
“Are you proud of what you do?”  
“I think so, though my two older brothers think I should become a doctor or a lawyer. I always seem to prefer the artistic side.”  
“That's very noble.”  
“They tell me that I'll be poor for the rest of my life, but I'd rather be happy.”  
“That's understandable.”  
“They don't tell you to follow your passion. Instead they tell you to go make some money. And that's it,” Kent said. “Always bothered me.”  
“It doesn't matter,” Felton added. “Just do what your heart tells you and follow your dreams.”  
“Yeah, and end up in a dump like this,” Kent shot back. “That's what society does. Suck you in and spit you out again...”  
Felton said, “Nothing wrong with this place that a few maintenance people couldn't fix.”  
“The plumbing's bad, the windows are stuck, and the beds are hard as a rock. And there are other things.”  
“Please don't mention them,” Felton said.   
“I have to.”  
“I'm already frightened out of my shoes.”  
The Doctor anchored her shoulders against the wall as she blew out an annoyed sigh. Her features registered keen interest in the conversation as her face tightened into a more serious facade. Her clothes hanged on her like a fashion statement.   
“What really happened last night?” the Doctor said.   
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Kent said.   
“You must do,” the Doctor snapped. “Some of the residents are not waking up from their long sleep.”  
“It's something you don't want to know,” Felton said.   
“I'm here to help,” the Doctor said.   
“Who are you?” Kent said.   
“Never mind that. Something happened here, and there haven't been any traces of whatever invades the retirement building,” the Doctor said. “And the people fall into comas at the same time. Just like the woman in room forty-five.”  
“Corliss Evans,” Kent said. “She's a writer.”  
“I urge you to tell me what happened.”  
“They're out to get us!” Felton shouted.   
“What are?” the Doctor said.  
“I shouldn't tell you.”  
“I'm not part of the staff,” the Doctor said. “Not even a member of the police. I'm sort of a detective who walked into this building. I'm here for the expressed interest of the anomaly.”  
“A what?”  
“Strange phenomena. A haphazard happening. An incident that has no explanation. At least, not yet.”  
“You mean like the ghosts in the walls?” Felton said.  
“What do you know about them? And there are no such things as floating spirits,” the Doctor said.   
“These are real enough,” Felton said.   
“I told you there are no such thing as ghosts. Remember that and you'll do fine.”  
“I know enough to be afraid of them at night.”  
She lowered her hands into her black coat pockets as her clothes wailed around her legs. Now she was letting ideas roam in her head. The Doctor remained unmoved by the idea of migrating ghosts wading between these rooms.   
Her eyes snapped open after meditating for a few moments.   
It was a nobody's building now. Creeping shadows tagged her while playing a game of “it.” The touch of darkness did not sooth the Ravenscar Manor, haunting it with a dirty presence. 

Chapter eighteen  
Their words seemed to echo louder than the pattering footsteps in the hallway behind them, and the thrust of suspicion grew between the three people in the conversation. Not suspicion, but skepticism.   
Though the Doctor offered a tense glare, she did hide something about herself. It was like someone holding a dark secret too much for others to find out. She preferred it this way.  
“They're dangerous, and real as you and me,” Kent said.   
“Can you stop thinking of them as ghosts? Utter nonsense,” the Doctor said.   
“If they're not real, how come they killed Corliss?”  
“What killed her?”  
“I don't like dragging Corliss' name into this,” Kent said.  
“Why?” the Doctor said.   
“He likes her,” Felton said.   
“That's not true,” Kent barked.   
“Sure it is. You keep her articles in your room. I've seen them,” Felton said.   
“That's... that's just for research,” Kent said.   
“I'm sure.”  
“And she's always a really smart cookie. She used to be a screen writer. Not everyone here is an actor. The retirement home is open to writers, painters and others.”  
“I'm here to help, not hinder. Do you have proof of this... ghost?” the Doctor said.  
“I don't know,” Kent said.   
“Do you have any pictures? Show me your photos on the cell phone or a camera.”  
A little surprised, Kent dug into his pockets to fetch the small digital camera that his oldest brother got him. Kent handed over the camera to the Doctor. The woman glanced at the all-too-cute cover with a pursed lips.   
The Doctor turned on the digital camera with the pressing of her thumb, and she poured through the gallery of photos in an impressive rampage of browsing. Her eyes darted over the pictures while her thumb made automatic clicks on the camera.   
Everyone huddled over the camera now in the Doctor's hold. Felton looked like a growing turnip, his eager face leaning over her shoulders. And Kent was on the other side looking like a man bent on getting a peak.   
She lowered the digital camera to get a better angle on it while stopping on the picture of an older woman standing in front of the wall. It was a delightful pose with a older, bright woman capturing innocence with her beaming smile and pretty mood.  
“That's Corliss a few days before she slipped into a coma,” Kent said.   
“Do you see it?” the Doctor said while holding the camera in place.   
The Doctor held the camera while the digital photo of Corliss Evans remained in frame. It was a perfectly ordinary photo shot of an elderly woman at the prime of her age.   
“No, what is there to see? I can't see anything in the picture except for my friend,” Kent admitted.   
“You're not looking hard enough.”  
With a few extra clicking on the camera, the Doctor magnified the photo of Corliss while the details grew bigger, clearer in zooming effects. It was like digging into more layers of the photo.   
Click.   
There was the one-fourth angle of the picture which focused on Corliss' hooked elbow and the wall behind her. The banking side of the wall became a mountain of details now.   
Click. Click.   
Something else gave the Doctor an idea when she saw the older woman holding an opened bottle of Pepsi. Somehow the Doctor seemed to be interested in the details behind Corliss in the picture.   
The Doctor magnified the picture once more with a single tapping of her thumb against the button, and the image bloomed as one could see the crack in the wall behind Corliss in the photo.   
With a few extra clicking on the camera, the Doctor magnified the photo of the kitchen room while the details grew bigger, clearer in zooming effects. It was like digging into more layers of the photo.   
Click.   
Click click.   
Something was inside the wall behind Corliss. The crack of darkness glared back with a seething stare, intending harm. The face wanted to come out of the dark.   
There! Did she see it? Did any of them?   
Yes, the presence in the walls grew with more menace. A yawning mouth spilled out from the dark with a fearsome hunger, an unsettling glimpse. Kent almost recoiled from it.   
Felton leaned closer as his hand held the camera too, his eyes glanced at the foul nature of the current picture now magnified in its brazen horror captured in digital form.   
“You see it now?” the Doctor said.   
“Ghosts in the walls,” Felton murmured. 

Chapter nineteen  
From the archives of Kent Dashing: Corliss Evans' article for the “Frightmare News #13:  
So what makes a good horror movie?  
I think that's a good enough question to ponder over. It can be a good time. It can be a reflection of fear.   
There is something more to it. Raw, savage, primordial. It can cling into your emotion with hooks. It's a definite adrenaline rush.   
That earthquake we just had a while ago? That's horror right down to the basest feelings. I can almost feel the ground slipping beneath me when it happens. I cling to my sister to hope the worst passes. The earthquake can swallow you up like a horrible beast.   
My sister Alice sees I'm okay now. I'm living in a retirement home and that's scary. I believe this place talks to me at times. Do you think I'm crazy when I say that? It's true.   
I can hear it whispering to me late at night, bleeding through the walls with a frightening voice. Sometimes it would go on for minutes, and other times for hours. It's something that you can't see. But you can hear it.   
It says, “Feed!”  
And so I'm stuck here in the Ravenscar Manor for Retired Actors. Though I've done plenty of writing, edited for a magazine called “Frightmare News” for a long time. My friend Kent manages to help me prepare many of the stories online. It is good of him.   
So what makes a good horror movie? There's going to be a few essentials I'm going to run through here.   
1\. Tension.  
It grips you. It takes you by the hand and pulls you through the nightmare like a tour guide from hell. I can feel it pressing its talons into me as it tugs. That's tension in a nutshell.   
2\. The victims.   
Who can forget them? They're the most important thing in the horror movies. Victims are the calling cards of the vicious killer. They're the score card that the culprit keeps. The more victims, the greater the crime.  
Just ask Peter Cushing every time he chases after Dracula. Or look at any of the old Universal movies for the body count.   
3\. Location  
Without the proper location, where would the horror movie be? That's important. It could be an old castle, a haunted house or an abandoned building. It could be one of those creepy theaters which stands proudly like a dark ruin. I wouldn't step into any of those places. I don't think my sister would either.   
Going inside an old house can have a lot of pressure on you especially if it's big and spacious. I always have a little bit of a fear of spiraling staircases running to the second floor.   
Stepping into a place like this is like stirring up a hornet's nest. You're never sure if you're truly alone in a place like this.   
4\. Shadows and light.  
This is an element that gets, er, overshadowed a bit. Not a lot of people realize how important it is to the making of a movie. Though the stress of dark, the room can become all kinds of scary. Mood, atmosphere, the stuff of horror.   
If you walk through a theater when it's dark, you can get all kinds of crazy ideas in your head. You're afraid of walking into things, or wondering what strange things can be lurking around.   
I don't like pulling down the shades when I go to sleep at night. I prefer having a little bit of light trickling through the windows! I don't like the silence at night. I don't like being alone.   
That's why the famous Universal Horror movies remain the most celebrated. They're black and white movies, being older than your grandmother's rocking chair.   
They knew how to manipulate the light effects, the shadows, the way dark and brightness fight each other in their claim to victory. Shadows can become an army of fears. You can see the decay of darkness in the movie “The Mummy” which spills everywhere. Especially on the close-ups of Boris Karloff's face.   
A dark place makes a great horror setting. Shadows can keep all kinds of deadly secrets.   
5\. The monster.   
Last, but not least, this is the very reason people watch horror movies. Without a good monster, the movie crumbles. If the monster is scary, the movie strikes you from the very celluloid reality it lingers in.   
I know the last good monster movie I saw made me hide behind the soft. That's a good kind of scary, isn't it? My sister joins me in that tight, cumbersome space where we share popcorn while watching the movie from afar.   
Oh, it seems like the monster is going to step right out of the TV screen and throttle you.   
Sometimes you feel sorry for the monster. Is it wrong to feel sorry for a dreadful thing? If the monster causes so much death and destruction, should you try to understand it?   
And yet the monster is part of the freak of nature that many don't understand. It lives beneath constant ridicule of mankind. It becomes a laughingstock and is put inside a carnival act. Should the monster have the right to be angry?   
The monster becomes the centerpiece of the horror movie. It's the thing we all wait for while watching a horror movies. 

Chapter twenty  
A little later.   
They sat in the game room where the white walls seemed soothing, but the seeping shadows hanged in the corners like ragged threads of evil. There stood several tables with games such as chess, backgammon and checkers along with other household names.   
One was a Kerala hand painted Elephant accent table which offered a gentle, guarding sight.   
The Doctor sat across from Kent while Felton ate a mouthful of food with trail mix. He chomped on it before offering some to Kent who gave in to the munchies.   
As the Doctor watched the old nursing home room struggle with bickering lights, she listened to a shifting silence spreading down halls like an unseen enemy. Its quietude spilled with chalking fear. She focused the conversation on one thing. Kent began yapping like an excited dog.   
“It started with Christopher Fontenot. He was the first one to slip into a coma long before the others fell into this sea of sleep,” Kent said. “Poor Chris was in perfect health other than a bad ulcer. Couldn't drink milk.”  
“He was gone just like that,” Felton said. “Never saw anything like it.”  
“There was no cry, or any screams in the middle of the night. It was just a sadness in the room, pet,” Kent continued.   
“Please don't refer to me or anyone else as a pet,” the Doctor added.   
“It's like something hooked Christopher Fontenot and dragged his thoughts away, leaving just a shell of a man.”  
“He was the smartest of the bunch,” Felton said.   
“Yeah, his mind was like a steel trap,” Kent said. “No one could best him on trivia shows.”  
“Then the others fell into the long sleep,” Felton said. “Another, and another. And Kent and I thought there was something wrong. Couldn't find a nurse. Then something happened to Corliss Evans.”  
“That's when we began investigating, pet,” Kent added. “Putting on our helmets and forging ahead like knights of the round table.”  
“So you're an actor like your friend here?” the Doctor asked Felton.  
“Well, character actor. I've never had any lead roles. I was the guy who showed up in the movies the way a neighbor showed up for a small talk.”  
“And Kent is also an actor,” the Doctor chimed. “Nice.”  
“Retired from the business,” Kent said. “It can pull you in and scramble you for all it's worth. This business can suck you dry.”  
“So this entire retirement home is filled with...”  
“...Actors, writers, painters, you name it, pet,” Kent said. “This place is the dumping grounds for the creative types. Some of the folks here are on assisted living.”  
“That's it,” the Doctor said.   
“I don't see why it matters,” Kent said.   
“Whatever is out there is feeding on your imagination. That's why these invaders are here because there's a conglomeration of creative people all in one place. It's the feeding grounds for these things.”  
“Why doesn't it get to me or Felton?” Kent said.   
“You're both wearing those ridiculous cooking bowls over your head which blocks them out. You're lucky. Probably the element in the silver turns them away”  
“Why silver?” Felton said.   
“It's an old element. There are many superstitions that take stock in them. Something about silver...”  
“I remember a lot of horror movies make silver a useful prop,” Felton said.  
“We wore those helmets while we slept at night,” Kent said.   
“Good idea,” the Doctor replied. “I recall some monster legends where silver fends them off. You've been playing it smart...”  
“We saw the shadows before more than a few days ago,” Felton said as he kept chewing on the trail mix. “That was when Corliss began to slip. I don't like the shadows.”  
“Have any of the sightings happen during the day?” the Doctor asked.   
Kent coughed, “Oh yes, I saw a black cloud floating across the southern hall. I thought it was a ghost, and never stepped down that way again.”  
As Kent helped himself to a can of Pepsi, his friend nibbled on the trail mix like a rabbit on lettuce. It was the only thing that could calm Felton down. The Doctor remained in her seat as her clockwork thoughts stirred.   
Kent felt his jaw straightening from the great tension, his eyes taunting with a glare. His face clenched as shadows dragged beneath through the carved erosion of his old face.   
He resembled a man trying to climb out of the coffin as he leaned over, his lips parted with fearful gasp. Or, perhaps, he was auditioning for the horror host role on late night TV.   
“They come out at night,” Kent announced. “Not so much during the day.”  
“Can you tell me your next encounter?” the Doctor asked Felton.   
Felton said, “It was in mister Cribbins' room down in the A block. I remember something ducking into his room, so I followed it. I wish I hadn't. The walls speak to you before...”   
“Before what?” the Doctor said.   
“The other folks went into a deep sleep. Some of them die. Some of them linger longer in a coma just like Cribbins did,” Kent said. “Until they expire. It's like death walks through these walls.”

Chapter twenty-one  
As the Doctor leaned back in her chair, taking in the details, she felt a small chill burying in her senses. It's been a long time since she felt a coldness nagging her. There grew a breath of shadows in the walls.   
She tapped her fingers on the table while she crossed her leg over the other ever so diligently. Her long black coat hanged on her with a gothic cheer while her white blouse fluttered with softness.   
Felton offered her the trail mix in which she declined. Her eyes narrowed while she felt annoyed by the constant ravages of shadows intruding in this place filled with retired actors.  
“So why are you still here in this building?” the Doctor said.   
“We were trying to help the others get out of their stupor,” Kent said. “But they're too far gone. They've drowned in sleep.”  
“Tell me more about what happened to Cribbins,” the Doctor said.   
“When I went into Cribbins' room, I saw something, a shadow, pulling the poor man up like he's a puppet, forcing something out of his head. The poor fellow looked drain after the shadow finished with him. I don't think this thing had eyes.”  
“Really?”  
“I think the face looks darker than the rest of it. I guess I just ran off and hid in Mrs. Booth's room.”  
“That's because you like her too,” Felton chimed in.  
“I do not like that old bat! I needed a place to feel safe in. Her closet was pretty good spot.”  
“You dirty, old man.”  
“Doesn't it seem like one of those old movies I did for Eep Productions? I think it was called Horror Face. Yeah, wasn't I in that one?” Kent said.   
“No, you turned it down because you got sick and tired of doing horror movies,” Felton said. “I think they offered Dana Andrews the part, but he turned it down too.”  
“That's too bad,” Kent said. “A psychological thriller.”  
“His name isn't even Dashing. That's his stage name,” Felton said. “Malloy is his real name.”  
Kent gave his friend a look that might have torn down a building, his glare fixed on him with a cursing. He might have bolted over and choked his good friend with his strong pair of hands.   
“No one is supposed to know that,” Kent simply said.   
“Sorry,” Felton said.   
“Do you remember anything else that night?” the Doctor said. “It's important.”  
“It felt like the shadow man is trying to get a read on me,” Kent continued.  
“It digs into my brain like ice picks scratching beneath my most inner thoughts.”  
“You were intruded by them,” the Doctor said. “Some sort of psychic needling,” the Doctor interjected.   
“There's another thing, pet,” Kent said. “I don't think these people ever come back from the comas. It's like their minds have been cleared out by a chimney sweeper. I don't think they'll ever snap out of it.”  
A frantic noise bolted out from one of the arcade video games in the room, shaking like it was possessed. It made a twitching, calamitous blast. It near frightened Felton out of his seat.   
“You're getting twitchy,” Kent said.   
“So are you,” Felton said. “I saw you jump too.”  
“I did not.”  
The Doctor turned her head while remaining calm, never once bothered by a grip of panic while the others startled. Her eyes furrowed with a restless gaze, her teeth biting down softly on her lower lips. Kent gripped his soda can tighter when it made a clicking sound.   
Despite the afternoon crawl spilling through the window, and fueling the room with a seeking warmth, the Doctor noticed a sudden chill. She jutted out of her chair as she got herself a closer look at the chatty video game.   
“That video game makes a jump every now and then,” Kent said. “It's got a mind of its own.”  
“I want you to remain here for a few minutes,” the Doctor said. “I need to look for my friend.”  
“You're joshing, right?” Kent said. “Alone?”  
“I don't want anyone splitting up anymore. Stay here so I know where you are. I'll bring back my friend. He's gone far too long now.”  
“So you have an idea of what's going?”  
“Oh yes,” the Doctor said with a grim smile. “We're all in a great deal of trouble.”

Chapter twenty-two  
China.   
The air was warmer here, gentle, like a brushing hand. TJ staggered to get up as his body ached with the pegging reminder that he was not a superhero.   
His hands clenched as he gazed around his surroundings.   
He tried to think of where he was. He had the strength of twelve tigers to move on. TJ was always traveling in his life. He needed to keep moving. That was why he traveled with the Doctor—always a vagabond.   
“Tao?” someone said.   
Tao? That was TJ's real name. Tao Jung. No one called him that for a long time. He used a nickname instead to forget the past. There was only one person who called him by his real name.   
His older brother.   
Now TJ stood to see the surroundings where the temples stood, and the hills falling into a thunder of beauty most recognized with their curved rooftops. The old fences struggling across the emerald covered grounds.  
Oh yes. It's China.   
His hometown.   
Tao?   
“Don't call me that,” TJ said.   
“But it's your name.”  
“I don't like it.”  
“Why?”   
TJ looked up to see his older brother glancing back at him. His older brother who TJ abandoned when he went on the random travels in a magical blue box. Or at least it felt like he deserted his brother.   
There grew the glittering sun which spread around him like several strings of brightness. This elder brother looked a lot like TJ except for a few more wrinkles, perhaps more sturdy. It was almost like looking at an altered mirror of himself.   
“I want to cut myself away from the past,” TJ said.   
“You're a warrior. That's something you should embrace.”  
“Just like you did?”   
“It's who you are.”  
TJ resigned himself to the conversation as he got up from the ground. His legs grew groggy as he could not fight off the simmering exhaustion. Not surprisingly, the appetite of the hot air basked around them. It was a glorified day.   
The scene was like something out of a collage with many themes of peace to it, and the sunlight trickled through the soothing summer. It turned into a beautiful dance of the sun. The will of arching brightness feasted on the Chinese hills which crackled with wounds of war.   
TJ could not even remember why he had come here. The singing of winds blazed around the trees while the hallowed skies blinked above them. TJ thought about how he gave his word to his brother to come back.   
He had yet to keep his promise. 

Chapter twenty-three  
TJ kept hearing his brother's voice.   
His strong presence was like a hurricane of power as he mastered his footstep, thrusting forward with a soldier's rapport. His fingers gripped the hilt of a sword.   
“Veer to the left! To the left!” his brother said.   
TJ did so like a soaring bird, his feet jostled in the right direction. His parrying moves blocked his brother's sword. The swords clashed with a spark of civil practice.   
“There, Tao, keep focusing with your hands,” his brother said. “Don't fidget for a moment!”  
“I lost myself in my thoughts,” TJ said.  
“Very likely. You were daydreaming at best!”  
“I wasn't that bad.”  
“You move like a snail, your cover is wide open and you thrust like a gentle lamb!” his brother remarked.   
“You shall never be a critic with a loose tongue like that.”  
“It is the truth.”  
TJ moved forward with a more concentrated, bold step, blocking the alternating sword, moving like a stolen lightening. His instincts were every bit as good like a man with a second sense.   
His brother pushed, blocked and poured like the thousand winds. His sportsmanship rivaled the gods. TJ listened to the swords clashing again like a ritual.   
They practiced together in the sorrows of the hills, bowing below the dainty sunlight which bathed the Chinese countryside. Now the skies boomed with a golden glitter of brightness. Their forms interlocked with professional tact.   
“I wish you wouldn't call me by that name,” TJ said.   
“Why not? It is your name. Be proud of it,” his brother said. As he clenched the sword for another sway.  
“My mother gave me that name. She is no longer with us.”  
“I understand,” his brother said in the native Chinese language.   
They moved in whistles, interlocked and clashed again like colliding stars. Their swords worked a rhythm while the trees shuddered around them like a nervous observer.   
“My mother is a beautiful woman. One should respect her,” TJ said.   
“You seem to always look for your mother's qualities in other women. You're looking for the perfectly doting woman, the one who cuddles, so she can take care of you for the rest of your life.”  
“Shut up!”  
“No wonder you're grumpy all the time,” his brother said. “So many missed opportunities.”  
“Why would I want to be with someone I detest?”  
“You make too many expectations.”  
“And you don't make enough,” TJ replied.   
They continued their practice on top of the grassy knoll, its emerald shard of growth cutting across the large hill. Their sibling rivalry was a friendly banter. Their footsteps circled in captivating moves, leaning, backing away like human tornadoes. 

Chapter twenty-four  
Their swords barked again with sharp edges. Behind them the Chinese temple sat with an old countenance, a picturesque view from the past. Its curved rooftop formed a fine pagoda in its topsy-turvey tribute. Further down the slopes grew the vast vista of count spilling into wondrous fields and sprawling hills.   
His brother tightened the grip on his sword as he leaned with an oppressive force, his youthful features gathered with a darker tone like carried some baggage in his life that he didn't want TJ to know about.   
Using his weight as an offensive gesture, he politely swayed his brother back like a rushing storm.   
“You'll follow in your brother's footsteps, I'm glad to see,” he said. “You'll be joining the emperor's army very soon.”  
“I prefer the bow and arrow,” TJ said.   
“No one beats you in that! It is why you practice the sword now!”  
“Hmm! I like precision! It is much faster than the sword.”  
“You must learn to use it like an extension. I always tell you this,” his brother said.   
“I know.”  
“You must remember that you are a warrior first and foremost. You're a warrior of the great and noble emperor's army! Do not disappoint me!”  
What was TJ doing here?   
He did not remember coming to China. Would the Doctor have brought him here? Or maybe it was something going on in his mind? TJ clutched at his thoughts like a falling man in a drowning river.   
How did he get here?   
They stopped their contest with sword-fighting while hearing the approaching patter of noise. It sounded like a force of wind just beyond the hills as several shapes rolled into view.   
TJ stayed in his place while lifting his head to see the invading presence. Expecting to see Chinese imperial soldiers riding into the eastern hills, TJ was surprised to see something else in their place.   
They were awful, horrible shadows coming towards the brothers. Their seething forms dwelling like a storm of fright-carriers. Their faces hanged with a hunger that could plague a world.   
They were living shadows.  
What was happening? 

Chapter twenty-five  
When the Doctor searched the hallway on the other side of the Ravenscar Manor for Retired Actors, her womanly form keeping to the sidelines, she found nothing of interest.   
Her annoyance at her companion walking off will need to be addressed later. She was getting tired of her human friends having a mind of their own and getting themselves in trouble.   
Wasn't the Doctor guilty of the same thing? The wandering off? It became a bad habit once her curiosity was hooked. She could get lost for days without knowing it.   
Though this was different.   
The Doctor saw the man with the beach ball sitting down in his chair, showing no interest in his surroundings. He was a sad, tragic man. He held his beach ball like it was the only friend he had in the world.   
Ernie. That was his name. The door to his right confirmed this. It was the room with the abundance of beach balls in different colors.   
“Do you understand me?” the Doctor said.   
Ernie looked like he was ready to throw her the beach ball, his tiny hands propping it up, but the Doctor pressed her hand down on it as she glanced at his face.   
“I'm... scared,” Ernie said.  
She lifted her hand as she snapped her fingers in front of his indifferent features. The Doctor did it once more as the small noise filled the room, confirming her suspicions.   
“No imagination,” the Doctor said. “You were spared by the attackers. They have no interest in you.”  
The Doctor stepped away from the sitting man who dropped the beach ball on the floor which made a bouncing sound. It was a pattering sound that rocked like earthquakes. The Doctor picked up the beach ball and planted it back in the man's lap before moving on. 

Chapter twenty-six  
Stepping into another alcove, following the meandering path, the Doctor found the trail of marble floor leading further towards the toward the Trinity court area. Here, in the far end of the hall, the Doctor found an arrow.   
And pinned to the wall by the arrow was a piece of black cloth.   
“Hmm?” the Doctor said.   
Crouching lower, her coat hanging down on the ground in ripples, the Doctor peered at the jagged arrow protruding from the wall. She picked up the cloth and the arrow together, feeling a slimy black sheet.  
The Doctor knew the torn piece of cloth belonged to a suit, perhaps a coat. Or something ever worse. A piece of skin. She sniffed at the substance while holding it in her hand. It felt like a slippery thing. She dropped the piece to the ground.   
What was this?  
The cloth seemed alive.   
She found the bow laying on the ground, left behind by the protector who carried it. The Doctor knew the bow belonged to a certain someone. Yes, there was Chinese kanji written along the side. It was chiseled forever into the wood.   
The words read: “Follow your dreams. Find your heart.”   
Indeed it was her friend TJ's bow, always the incurable romantic. His notions of beauty was like that of a painter. His visions of the world was built in a series of lovely songs. And in between were bouts of his savagery.   
Only this was a skilled bowman. The Doctor remembered TJ told her how the wooden bow was made. It was a longish tale which TJ told her in one evening.   
He mentioned an old man from the Saura village, a small dot on the map in northern China. At the age of nearly ninety years old, the craftsman made the bow for TJ from the selection of rhino horns, and elephant horns as well, a perfect sampling of balance. The elements of great nature gave the bow its ensuing mastery.  
“At the expense of the poor animals,” the Doctor muttered regarding the tale.   
This bow was the last thing the old man made for TJ, being created for a noble cause of the emperor's army. Now TJ carried the memory of this old man found in the wooden bow.   
Could it be that the old man's soul found its way into the bow after death? Sometimes the Doctor saw TJ speaking to it like a whisperer in the night. Was the soul an artifact of a man's essence?   
Of course, the Doctor didn't believe in that.   
However, she knew TJ wouldn't leave his bow stranded on the ground like this. It was a gift to him. The Chinese archer treated it like it was an extension of himself. Never once did he leave it behind.   
There was a fight here.   
And TJ was taken.   
“There's something else,” the Doctor said.   
She could see a shape caught her attention on the far wall, and she went to find out what it was. Her fingers flattened against the wall as if she was trying to get a idea of what happened.   
Something moved.   
Perhaps a shadow. 

Chapter twenty-seven  
The Doctor continued her investigation while going through the hallway, her hands brushing over the walls for clues.   
“This might be helpful,” the Doctor said.   
She glanced at the jutting fingernail still protruding from the wall, a silver dash of brightness leaped off metal. Her fingers brushed against the edges while testing the sharpness. The make of it, the curved hook, everything led to a few clues.   
It was the kind of fingernail which was toxic to those victims receiving the business end of it. These fingernails would penetrate with a strong venom causing the victim to fall asleep.   
And more.   
While she held her friend's bow in her hand, carrying it with her, she didn't want to let it go. So her fingers gripped tighter around the wooden bow. She took a closer look at the details on the fingernail.   
She recognized the designs.   
“Dwellers,” she said. “I've heard of them. I didn't think they were real.”  
If she was right, her friend TJ was in a great danger. She'll need to get back to the TARDIS standing outside of the retirement home. She might even get Kent and Felton to help her.   
She'll need to right this problem plaguing the Ravenscar Manor for Retired Actors while dealing with a newfound foe. It would be like a stage performer trying to juggle all his acts at once. She'll need to be careful.   
Something was something haunting this empty building. The deadness waited in the air.   
There were no such things as ghosts. The Doctor knew only too well this was the result of some cheap gimmick leaving the building without people. The damage was already done, and she'll have to play clean-up crew.   
She got a few ideas. She'll need to get back to Kent and his friend. A calvary of old men.   
A dead building no more. The Doctor will make sure of that.   
The building seemed to scream with shadows. 

Part Three  
Chapter twenty-eight  
Making her way through the hallway, hoping to beat the clock, the Doctor set up the gadget to get more readings. It was part of an experiment she had in mind.   
She continued in front of room one-thirteen where she set camp. Gadget, tripod, some notes, science in the works. She stood outside the eastern wing, putting together her science project.   
“What are you doing, pet?” Kent said.   
“This is going to help me to reach across the dimensions to talk to the right aliens,” the Doctor said. “It's a sort of Manipulating Teleporter!”  
“Huh?”  
“Pretty good name, isn't it? Just thought of it on the spot,” the Doctor said.  
“Did you say aliens?”  
“Well, not all aliens are friendly. The ones using your retirement home are fiendish types who hide between moments of time. I'll need this contraption to help speak to them.”  
“What about that blue box of yours? The one where you got this gadget from.”   
“What of it?”  
“It was... well...”  
“Spit it out.”  
“I took a look in it. And it was bigger on the inside than the outside.”  
“I like it when people say that,” the Doctor beamed.  
The Doctor reached around the Manipulating Teleporter as she put it in place while the thundering pressures of theories began to sink into her thoughts. Also she couldn't help not thinking about what happened to the people in this retirement home.  
The Doctor grabbed the end of the contraption before and putting it in place. This device worked as a communications device on the correct frequency. It was all the matter of finding the right tune.  
“You need any help?” Felton said.   
“No, but you can keep a look-out for me,” the Doctor said.   
“Are you some kind of inventor?”   
“Well, I'm more of a troublemaker.”  
“Why are you making this sort of contraption?”  
“Something isn't right. I believe the retirement home is out-of-phase. It's like something is stepping in between the seconds. And we're caught in a glitch.”

Chapter twenty-nine  
When the Doctor switched on the Manipulating Teleporter, making a whirling sound greeting the hallway with gentle pulses, she crouched with a guarding stare as her fingers tweaked the controls.   
The other old men watched her with an interest with Kent leaning over like a student in class, and his friend Felton shared his view. They nodded their heads to each other while exchanging glances. The Doctor gave them a do-you-mind?-look.   
“You look like the mechanical type, pet,” Kent commented.   
“This is a device that'll allow me to speak on the right frequency since they have the ability to shift in and out of time.”  
“Any idea what you're looking for, pet?”  
The Doctor shifted with an irritated beat before moving on, “These Dwellers come from the black hole itself. Not even I ever encountered them before. They're an enigma.”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“They have the ability to hide in time,” the Doctor said. “Their abilities are far-reaching just like the black hole.”  
“Is there anything you would like us to do?” Felton said.   
“Stand guard, and make sure nothing happens to this device,” the Doctor said. “I want to keep the line open as long as I can.”  
“You mean we have to stand out in the hallway on our lonesome?” Kent blubbered with a crack.  
The Doctor turned to Kent with a swivel on her boots, and planted both of her hands on his shoulders, giving him a straight glance into his eyes. She was like a fearless goddess.   
Her features sparked with a brazen defiance which made you think she was the kind of woman willing to go anywhere dangerous on a mere whim. Her face tightened with a blessing for him.   
“You, Kent Dashing, and Felton Chappa, are soldiers of courage. And nothing could frighten you. I need to find out where my friend TJ is and this is the only way. So I need your help. Should duty call, you are there to meet it with the greatest bravery. You, dear sirs, are the greatest actors of your generation.”  
Kent gulped. Felton looked like he wanted to be somewhere else.   
And, thus, the Doctor turned to the room most interesting to her. Room one-thirteen. She stepped into it while the Manipulating Teleporter worked.   
She seemed to vanish into the room like a ghost.   
Her jutting figure cut into the storm of mystery waiting for her in that room. Her compelling features never blinked once with fear. She was like a bright comet charging into a sea of darkness.   
Felton turned to his friend as they remained at the device's station: “Do you think she laid it on a bit thick?”

Chapter thirty  
TJ woke up in what looked like a separate room where the ceiling grew dingy with age. Or it could be a totally different place immersed with sleeping clouds. It was still the retirement home.   
As he recovered in the corner of some back room, TJ watched from the edge of the circle as the shadows stirred around him. It looked like a place where rats hid.   
What was this place?   
It looked like the retirement home, but there was something different about it. How the walls and the floors seemed to be out-of-depth. It was like walking into an ocean of darkness.   
TJ didn't have an idea, but his captors surrounded him as they forced him to the ground with their raised hands dripping with sharp talons. Their shifting, morose forms pressed into him like a sickness. 

Chapter thirty-one  
This odd room struggled with a shroud of darkness pegging the corners. Or was it another part of the retirement building? It seemed to stir with a rickety blur. What was this place?  
Hi throat gasped for a breath. It was a suffocating moment. His hand lifted to rub his neck as he looked around in the strange surroundings.   
It looked like Ravenscar, but something was wrong with it. He felt like he stepped into sideways into a shadow world.   
“Where am I?” TJ said.   
The nothingness answered him in abundance. Here the shadows twisted around him with a stirring menace. The darkness was a living thing. He didn't like it here, fighting the aches stinging in his body. Felt like he had been poisoned with the echoes.   
Around the room bled the wrongful shadows which poured into the enclosed space. This place was part of Ravenscar, and yet it wasn't. The walls looked like cramped bindings while the cringing ceiling wrinkled with a fear. There were tears in the walls.   
TJ saw manifestations of shadows turning to him.   
The creatures greeted him with hunger as he felt his senses returning. His strength was coming back as he tried to crawl away, finding himself in a dead end.   
He got up to his feet to see the shadows approaching him with a faceless murmur. How could he communicate with something he didn't understand. TJ felt like he was getting more sleepy. His eyes dragged with fatigue.   
“What are you doing here?” TJ said.   
The silence of the dark remained idle. He felt trapped here. He could not leave this place while the walls of darkness tightened around him.  
He could see teeth.  
More teeth.  
It was a sickening display.

Chapter thirty-two  
The Doctor knew something waited for her in the room. Was it a ghost which glared out from behind the window in a beckoning way? Or was it something much darker that tainted the retirement home?  
Her thoughts turned to the stuff of fiction too. She reasoned with the notion that she did not imagine whatever was in room one-thirteen. It was so strange to see a moving shadow fleeting by inside.   
Come on inside.   
The door was open. Come in.   
The man in room one-thirteen already had a visitor. It pushed into the air like a slipping shape, a clogged darkness which took shape. It was a hunched figure, its hanging teeth looked like dripping icicles.   
A face filled with teeth. Endless teeth.  
The Dweller.   
As the Doctor shut the door behind her, she felt the gruesome shifting of the room's air tightening with shadows. She saw the glaring intruder pouring over the comatose man, draining him as one would drain water from a kitchen sink. It made sickening sounds.   
It lifted its face while the Doctor stopped in her tracks.   
The face filled with circles of teeth, rims of shredding molars twisting with a lively stir.   
This beast of a creatures looked at the Doctor with a mild indifference, but it grew aware of her presence. It broke away from the comatose man as it ravaged features clattered with a foul gallery of teeth.  
“I think you've fed on this man long enough,” the Doctor said.  
“Who are you?” the Dweller said.   
“I'm the one who's going to stop you,” the Doctor shot back.  
“We have existed for millions of years,” the Dweller said. “You are nothing to us.”  
“You exist to feed like a leech,” the Doctor said in a commanding voice. “I can't stand parasites like you. Leave these people alone.”  
“You dare to intrude?” the creature continued. “You have no idea what you're dealing with, child.”  
The Doctor was getting angrier now after being called many things from “pet” to “child,” offending her. She became appalled at the idea of playing word joust with this monster. She uttered a bark of rage.   
“Oh yes, the Terror of the Dark, the Armageddon Eternal, the Star Phantoms. The Dwellers. You go by many names. And you don't belong here!”  
“Ah, have you known that we have lived on this planet for centuries hiding... hiding in the mists of sorrow. Hahaha! You may have heard of the painter Francisco José de Goya. Our influences dragged his long and slow death, putting him through a mental breakdown. We WERE his personal demons.”  
“You're disgusting.”  
“I fed on him until he went insane. It was a pleasure.”  
“Monsters,” the Doctor muttered.   
“Their imagination is our substance. It is the food for the gods. And this man in room one-thirteen salivates so much fuel for our hunger.”  
The Dweller shifted around the bed like some putrid, anorexic horror, and towered over the sleeping man like some engulfing nightmare. The creature's face tightened with a joy of thirst, holding the man captive.   
It was an unpleasant scene as the Dweller moved like a giant centipede, scrambling with bone-thin arms and legs. He lingered over the helpless man while the heart monitor maintained a steady hum.   
Now, like a queen moving over the chess board, the Doctor skirted to the side of the bed across from the Dweller. She saw his face glittered with a slothful parade of teeth. The Dweller hoisted himself like a demon shepherd pouring over the man's last moments of his life.   
The heart monitor machine raced upwards into a beeping chaos, a wrecking rhythm which coincided with the man's effort to struggle for the edge of life. Under the pallid lights, the man in the coma hanged on the thread of his existence.   
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
Now the humming sound twisted and whirled until it flatlined with a disappointing note. The sleeping man gave a final gasp before resigning himself to his fate. The comatose man fell silent forever.

Chapter thirty-three  
“Was that really necessary?” the Doctor said.   
“This one has nothing left to offer,” the Dweller said.   
“He was a human being with a good mind. Such a waste.”  
“The feeding will continue in the cusp of our delight,” the creature said.   
“I'm going to make sure this doesn't happen again!” the Doctor shot back.   
“You'll do nothing.”  
“Some of these people in the long sleep are still alive. You're not going to take them either!”  
The Dweller approached the Doctor like a swarming blackness, his hateful hands lifting with skeletal thinness. It said with a gleeful grin, “You have so much imagination that could stretch the horizons.”  
With a cutting move, the Doctor produced the sonic screwdriver in her hand as she pointed it at the oncoming monster. She could feel the kiss of coldness on her face as the shaking shadows peeled around her like shrieks.   
The sonic screwdriver threw echoes around the attacker.   
Holding the creature at bay, the Doctor refused to play its game. She remained in a stance as she flourished with a regal presence, her hand tightened around the sonic device.   
“Do not be afraid,” the Dweller said.   
“I've recalibrated the sonic device. I'll punch a hole through you with the setting I have on,” the Doctor said.   
“Your thoughts. Your burning thoughts.”  
“I won't be your next victim, and neither will anyone else here,” the Doctor said.   
“I will tear your thoughts in half!” the creature shouted.   
“Your ruthless antics end here,” the Doctor announced.   
“We are the night. “We are darkness. We are the tragedy. We are the horror. We shall come for you...”  
“Here is a message you can take to the one who leads: I will bring a crushing halt to you if you continue. You will feel my wraith.”  
“Bah! It means nothing to us!”   
The Doctor switched on a higher frequency on the sonic screwdriver, causing it to spill echoes into the room. The creature turned away, leaving like a shadow under the timeless rigors of daylight. Soon it vanished like an unnameable thing, slinking back into its murdering path.  
Though the Doctor was too late for the man in room one-thirteen, she looked down at the stillness of his features.   
Her fists clenched around the sonic device as she gazed across the room. How the poor man on the bed became fodder for some monster's hunger. Who was this man? Was he an actor who enjoyed his time in the movies? She'll simply remember him as the man in room one-thirteen.  
The Doctor took a moment to cover his face and body with a bedsheet. His features looked ghoulish under the cloth. Her teeth gritted, anger blazed in her eyes. Her warrior rage grew a hundredfold as her thoughts leaped with fire.   
It was time to leave.

Chapter thirty-four   
These creatures were frightening looking with their groggy statures, oily slick arms which moved like a creeping jest. The nimble fingers, dark with lizardly skin, grew long with great length  
When they moved their longish arms, it was like watching a sweeping darkness at work. They ambled along with a sweeping darkness. As the one of the shadows reached around the corner, his fingers grasped like searing talons. Like black clouds moving.   
Worse were the faces.   
They were not even faces. Most of the face was just a giant mouth clutching with a endless teeth. It yawned open with a hunger's nightmare. Their shambling forms glued to the darkness like a plague, waiting, hoisting themselves.   
“Who are you?” TJ said.   
“We are the Dwellers.”  
These... things were a menace. They crouched low like some steady, fearsome thing while the other shadow things joined in the ritual of seething glares. They moved like a wind of horror.   
Their disgusting bellies hanged like pregnant pouches. It looked as if they swallowed someone as they shifted through the room. Their faces leered with a toothy expression. 

Chapter thirty-five  
One such creature, a strutting sapling-thin creature, stood before TJ in a kingly fashion, gazing at him with a smothering snarl. He saw the captive TJ more as a pest waiting to be squashed.   
The other shadows referred to him as Itegotha while they were in circles of small talk. He stepped down from his proverbial throne on the bridge like a cruel thing, his forked tongue flickering with thunder.   
“What is the meaning of this?” Itegotha said.   
“Found him in the building,” J'Kaox said. “Following me.”  
“How can this be? There's supposed to be no one in the building. No one awake.”  
“How can I see you?” TJ said.   
“We allow you to see us,” Itegotha replied. “Otherwise we are just shadows to you in hiding.”  
TJ looked around in the strange place he was in which looked more like a blur.   
“Ah, I see you are confused by your whereabouts,” Ithegotha said. “You are in a time stream which runs parallel to the one you from.”  
“So you hide in your own corner of cowardice?” TJ said. “Like rats in the walls.”  
“We travel between the moments of time. The laws of physics hold no barrier to us. Being born out of the black hole gave us such abilities,” Itegotha said with a relishing note while his teeth flittered.   
“That is why you live in the dark.”  
“This is correct.”  
Itegotha resembled more of a corpse-like thing, being bigger than the others, their shadow faces creeping with grotesque concern. His sleepy eyes offered a narrow, accusing glance.  
His provoking hands lifted the jutting knife-like fingers with sweeping protest. The others looked bone-bodied, slumped with no excess bulk. They had protruding mouth which gave a glimpse of forever teeth.  
Their skin looked permeable as if they were living in a drought, thirsty bloodsuckers keen on a lesson of violence. The hands stretched into cadaverous shapes sinking with abhorrence of life.   
TJ found the one called J'Kaox to be slightly in shame of bringing the prisoner alive to the fold. They were steady, craven monsters. They moved with the darkness.   
“There are two of them,” J'Kaox said. “There was a woman too.”  
“You're a resident from the building?” Itegotha said to the prisoner  
“No,” TJ said.   
“That's impossible. I do not recognize you.”  
“I'm sorry to disappoint you.”  
“He is a fierce one,” J'Kaox added.   
“It matters none to me,” Itegotha said. “We will draw information from him.”  
The stick-thin creature stirred with slight anger, howling teeth teeming together for an intended bite, but remained in his place while TJ was being interrogated.   
The archer's knees ached after kneeling for so long.   
And the others moved with an economic booming of foul interest in the prisoner. They approved of the idea of keeping TJ here as fodder for their hunger.   
“You're Dwellers. The Doctor told me once you were just a fairy tale,” TJ snarled. “You're nothing but a bunch of mind thieves.”

Chapter thirty-six  
Dismissing the incident with the supernatural explanation for more practical science, like someone clinging to logic, the Doctor returned to the TARDIS like a woman of new ideas.   
While the Doctor worked her way around the TARDIS console, plotting together another piece of equipment by using the TARDIS' interior, the Doctor felt like she was rushing at a controlled pace.  
She resembled a madwoman lingering over the console, her eyes shifting over the engines of time. She beckoned with her fingers like a surgeon waiting for a scalpel to be handed over.   
“What are you trying to do?” Kent said as he glanced around at the TARDIS interior.   
“Something different this time,” the Doctor said. “I'm used to going forward and backwards in time. Moving around in space. Have you noticed anything about the Dwellers?”  
“Ah, they're hide in the darkness a lot,” Felton said.   
“That's utterly correct. The creatures have an ability to cross sideways through time to hide themselves. That's why we can't see them unless they reveal themselves.”  
“This is beyond me,” Kent said.   
“Just look at it this way. You see how people swim underwater? They are blurry, a little out of focus, right?”  
“Yeah, yeah, I see that all the time when we visit Valley Crow Beach in southern England.”  
“When the people step out of the water, you can clearly see them just fine. The Dwellers function in a similar way. They travel in different ways, going in and out of different dimensions. Going out of time...”  
“I got it,” Kent said. “I think.”  
“Do you mind getting the sonic?” the Doctor said to Felton.  
“Er, all right,” Felton said.   
He grabbed the sonic screwdriver that was sitting on the console edge, and planted it firmly in the flat of the Doctor's hand. She seemed neither distracted or pressured. She was a workaholic.   
“Thank you,” she piped.   
She returned to her current assignment of work while Kent hovered over her like an all-too-curious kid at a science project. She didn't spare him a moment as her hands moved like pendulums of action.   
“So you must be working on your latest masterpiece,” Kent said.   
“I'm going to boost the power of the TARDIS to cross the hallways of time by channeling it through the Manipulating Teleporter,” the Doctor said. “I'm going to use the TARDIS to create a doorway for the Dwellers to be pulled through.”  
“Is that dangerous?”   
“Very possibly. I'm going to use the TARDIS to wake the residents up in this building as well. The TARDIS will be like having their own alarm clock.”  
“How dangerous is this going to be?” Felton said.   
“It'll be like stepping into the eye of the storm,” the Doctor said. “The winds of time will swallow the Dwellers whole.”  
“You'll kill them?” Kent pointed out.  
“They're leeches who are never going to leave the human race alone,” the Doctor said. “The Dwellers will keep feeding on the human race until there's none of you left. Then the Dwellers move on.”  
“Perhaps you can strand them somewhere?” Kent suggested while Felton nodded.   
“And the Dwellers will find a way to escape?” the Doctor said. “They don't deserve second chances.”

Chapter thirty-seven  
The Doctor made her first attempt to pilot the TARDIS for a short hop. It'll be a little tricky piloting the TARDIS into the Ravenscar Nursing Home.   
With a rapid swirl, sweeping the floor with clapping footsteps with her boots, the Doctor offered a striking pose of confidence. Her hands floated over the controls while she glanced at the meters before her.   
“I'll be going sideways this time,” the Doctor said.   
“What if we get lost?” Kent said.   
“I'll make sure that doesn't happen. I'm following a trace on my Manipulating Teleporter to track the Dwellers, using this to hone in on them.”  
“I can't believe you fly a machine like this.”  
“Lovely, isn't it?” the Doctor quipped.   
In a shaking, booming rattle the TARDIS made its leap through a short distance. Her eyes followed the coordinates while she shifted several switches. She was like an engineer holding the shift lever device on the train.   
Soon.   
Just a bit more.   
Almost there.   
After the TARDIS made an uncomfortable ache, moving from one place to the next, the Doctor felt its relentless force as she handled the controls like an expert. The TARDIS was the one constant companion throughout her lifetime. It was a forever friend.   
Maybe she would never get to a place she wanted to go, but the blue box would always take her where she needed to go. And that was the synchronicity of beauty.   
It was reliable.   
It was dedicated.   
Sometimes unruly.  
It didn't happen often when the Doctor used the TARDIS to solve the problem she had. Sometimes she didn't like to take advantage of the blue box because it was indeed a living, thinking machine.  
It was a thriving mind in the heart of matrix. Oh yes, it had character too. Now the blue box hummed with the intention of landing.  
“There, that's it,” the Doctor quipped.   
“We're here?” Kent said.   
“Oh yes.”  
“No bright lights? No shooting stars?” Kent said. “I don't see anything different in the room.”  
“What were you expecting? Special effects?” the Doctor snapped.   
“Are those... things out there?” Felton said with a trembling voice.   
“They should be.”  
“Could I use the TARDIS for a movie prop?” Kent suggested.  
“NO!” the Doctor said.   
She listened to the TARDIS rumbling like a mechanical beast as the rapture of the landing boomed with a glorified noise. It chugged and churned while it shifted to the inner city. With a sudden shifting, and an applauding commotion, the TARDIS picked a spot.   
The Doctor made a grin.   
“Let's go meet our friends,” the Doctor said. “Shall we?”

Chapter thirty-eight  
“I resent that,” Itegotha said with a rising voice. “We're not mind robbers. I like to call ourselves... collectors!”  
“You're scum,” TJ said.   
“Collectors of unused imagination. There are so many pages of imagination that would go to waste. So many writers throw away their best ideas. Such a misfortune.”  
“This one's got a loose tongue,” J'Kaox intervened.   
He gave TJ brush of his fingers which trickled beneath his chin, though TJ grew sickened by the touch. There grew a terrible laughter as TJ saw their shifting shadows slip around him.   
Itegotha said, “Your presence distracts me. I do not like this.”  
Several of the things scrambled like a horde, their faces hanged with scrawling glee for violence. The Dwellers latticed together like fixtures of cosmic terror. Their teeth clanked with hunger.   
They shifted through the room like men in the water: slipping motions, pallid, cascading movements in an ocean of darkness. It was like stirring between the clouds of gods.   
No one knew of the origins of the Dwellers, though childhood stories spoke of them coming from the depths of the dark. Some across the cosmos wondered if the Dwellers came from a black hole near the world of Ufn'tluun which strained in eternal chaos.   
A world within the black hole. Could such a thing be? Ufn'tluun was the heatbeat of the black hole which persisted throughout time and space. This was where the Dwellers supposedly came from.   
No one knew how. Not even Time-Lords.   
Instead they came to the Time-Lords in nightmares. Slivers of horror pegging their sleep like terrible ghosts. They came to the lesser species like silhouettes of time.   
The Dwellers moved with prowess as they circled around TJ, rebelling against his unenthusiastic banter. Their angry eyes leered with intent while their dreadful fingers were long, bending.   
They were, indeed, Dwellers.   
“How did you get to this building?” Itegotha said. “Tell me.”  
“We have a ship of our own,” TJ said.   
“You speak truth?”  
“Yes.”  
“Who is this woman you're with? Is she your woman?”   
“What? No. She's far too old for me. She pilots our ship. You don't want to mess with her.”  
“Is that so? You are foolish to intrude on our affairs. We are the ghosts here. We are the ghosts who haunt the night.”  
“You're a plague.”  
“It's a poetic piece of wording, but we are the bogeyman in a cosmos. We shroud everything in fear.”  
One of the Dwellers hissed with laughter.   
“What did you do to the people in this building?” TJ piped.   
“A crowning achievement,” Itegotha said. “It's the remnants of their imagination that draws us.”  
“You're just a sickness that should be blotted out,” TJ shot back. “I know the Doctor would agree to that.”  
“We are the architects of darkness,” Itegotha said. “We have a way to remain invisible to the naked eye. We stay sideways of you.”  
“I don't understand.”  
“Do you ever feel like something brushed your hand behind you? And you turn around to see nothing. That's us. That's the darkness that moves. Sometimes you can feel something brush against your face...”  
“That's enough.”  
“Just like a kiss of death in a winter's season...”  
Itegotha took a couple steps towards TJ like a king looking to punish someone for his flaws, lack of will. While shuffling past TJ, he reached out with his right hand to grip the Chinese man's neck.   
The Dweller circled around the captive while studying him like a cat watching a mouse. TJ grew uncomfortable. Ithegotha resembled a lively creature wanting to pounce.   
It was what hunters did. TJ knew Itegotha continued to look for a weakness. This was what good hunters did: assessing the prisoner's weaknesses. Finding a way to kill.   
The shadow men moved through the room like bits of smoke, fury and terror. TJ counted his moments while thinking of a way to cut himself away from the Dwellers.   
There was no way for TJ to escape these monsters. Where would he go? This place was like a broken sight: the clouds of darkness were clinging to the retirement building like a blur. He did not have a place to run to.   
Itegotha offered. “We want your ship.”  
“The TARDIS? No way,” TJ said.   
“A little modesty would do you good. Give us this gift of the gods.”  
“I'm not interested. Neither is my friend.”  
“Hold him!”

Chapter thirty-nine  
Ithegotha stepped closer to TJ as he towered like a tower of blackness, his slothful frame lowering like a hunger beast. His leaning features filled with teeth shuffled forward with gleaming feast.   
TJ tightened his eyes as he concentrated, his face recoiled from the sponge of teeth wanting to rip into him. He could feel something digging into his thoughts.   
Something was peeling his brain from the inside, feeling the incessant scratching digging further and deeper. However, summing up his strength, TJ fought back.   
He shut them out.   
TJ felt the nagging of his thoughts as he pushed them away with a mental shove. His eyes continued to shut while he did not let any of the darkness fall between his thoughts. He fought as hard as he could.   
“You dare?” Ithegotha hissed.   
TJ knew how to block my thoughts. His friend the Doctor taught him to put up a mental barrier. He wasn't going to let them strangle him with their strange telepathic powers. They were not going to be his masters.   
“I gave you my answer,” TJ snarled.  
“Deeper, further!”   
“No.”  
“Why don't you let me feed?”   
“No! NO!”  
“You will not be able to last long. Soon you will give in to me, or all of us,” Ithegotha said.   
“Never!”  
“And we will take this ship. Is it a ship of time?”  
TJ tried to glance away, cutting them off. The brooding air flooded the room as the toothpick-thin Dwellers beings riddled with tension, cluttering the room like misshapen fiends. They approached TJ like butchers sharpening their knives in a meat shop.   
“Is it a ship of time?” Itegotha said.  
“Yes!” TJ said. “Yes.”  
Now the other shadows moved around him like sweeping shadows wanting to hold him with a deadly warmth. TJ could feel their fingers lurking around him like peddling needles. Their hunger grew worse.   
They fed soon on his mind.   
“You just made it much easier for me,” Itegotha said. “We will take the ship of yours to travel all of time and space. We will become all powerful.”

Chapter forty  
Stepping outside the blue box, finding herself in familiar surroundings, the Doctor looked around at the empty retirement home. Her regal frame remained standing as her features twisted with annoyance.   
She put the TARDIS into the Trinity Court area with several rooms sitting adjacent to it. No signs of the Dwellers yet. Not yet.   
“Dwellers,” she said. “I don't like them at all.”  
Why was that?  
“They're unlikable guests,” she added.   
“It looks all the same. Except the rooms are a little blurry,” Kent said as he stepped out of the blue box.   
“Remember what I've told you about being underwater? This is it. We are in the darkness where the Dwellers linger.”  
“I'm not looking forward to this,” Felton said as he joined the others.   
“So this is where the time anomaly sits,” the Doctor said. “The source of our problems.”  
She began the long process of setting up things to resolve the situation. If she could get the people back in this building, that would be a trick worth a thousand lifetimes. The TARDIS would help her this time.   
“I'm going to use the TARDIS console to open up one of the dimensions,” the Doctor said. “Can you stand out here and let me know what is happening?”  
“You enjoy using us as props, don't you?” Kent said.   
“Never mind that. Just don't get too close to the doorway. It'll pull you in.”  
“That thrills me.”  
The Doctor went back to the console before reaching the heart of the machine. It was a technological feat that would help her against the Dwellers in the long run.   
Her hands carried a couple of long, large cables, rolling them out into trailing streams connecting to the interface outside, the apparatus which seemed like an avalanche of wires. It was a cachet of sophisticated, coiling strands. It grew into a message of science. 

Chapter forty-one  
The Doctor unrolled the cables like a fireman who unheaved a fire truck hose to put out the fire. There was the proverbial fire in front of her: The Dwellers were that fire in the building that need to be washed out.   
She unwrapped another filament while hooking the cables into the Manipulating Teleporter.   
The Doctor will use it to boost the TARDIS' power on a local level. It was pretty good work. Her arms grew a bit sore from the constant work.   
This was going to help the TARDIS make a counter-effect in a small area. Whatever was holding the people captive in this altered time stream, the TARDIS was in the middle of it.   
“This will be like prodding a stick into a hornet's nest,” the Doctor said.   
“I believe you,” Felton commented.  
“The Manipulating Teleporter I built isn't big enough for this,” the Doctor said. “I'll need all the help I can get from the TARDIS.”  
“What are you going to do?”  
“Open a dangerous door to another dimension on a small scale. It will be a good place to send the Dwellers...”  
“I should have stayed in bed today,” Kent said.   
Without further delay, the Doctor attached a couple of large dishes to the Manipulating Teleporter she was rebuilding. It looked like something out of a science-fiction movie including some steampunk motifs.   
The Manipulating Teleporter will help the TARDIS send recursion signals to cancel out the Dwellers' powers. The Doctor suggested it would be like sending a feedback.   
She needed to use the Manipulating Teleporter. It was like hooking up a big battery to the TARDIS. The Sonic Screwdriver didn't have enough power for this course of action.   
There it was like goading a bloated beast in the shadows. Still asleep in the darkness like a raging menace. It laid with a lazy presence while sending out a signal which grew louder. The Dwellers.   
Kent and Felton could see them through the blurry state of the Trinity Court, and the odd couple almost clung to each other while the horror of the shadows stepped into view.   
The shadows moved.  
And so the Dwellers spent their time in the safety of shadows. They moved like dreams while remaining in this placid state. Now was time to wake up the monsters. 

Part Four  
Chapter forty-two  
Itegotha made a slow, but sure gesture to return to his beautiful sanctity of darkness, his face growling at the resisting captive as he towered like a king taking a throne.   
His finger snapping in annoyed haste, his hand moved over the edge of the corner, the longish talons creeping over like slipping oil. This was the secret place for the Dwellers.   
His presence grew crude, his face twitched while his mouth resembled sharpened piano teeth. Itegotha earned his nickname as the “The Void Murderer” due to his number of kills.   
His thoughts turned to the idea of killing this archer.  
“I've run around the moons of Nectar and stole the minds from the greatest civilizations,” he said to the prisoner. “I have taken from millions.”  
TJ shot an awful glance back like a warrior taking to the battle. He shuffled between the clinging fingers of the Dwellers, holding him down with the suffocating lattice of their talons.   
There grew a sickness breaking out in his stomach as TJ could no longer avoid. One of the creatures dug its nails into his neck, leaving a threatening cut. Their hisses was grinding like terrifying noise.   
“You'll have to kill me before I join your lot,” TJ said.   
“Then we can dispense with the hospitality.”  
Itegotha grew bored of the discussion as his face pivoted towards the wall of time between the Dwellers and the retirement home. It was a fleeting glance. His face scowled with an angry knot of hisses. The lost moments.  
Ithegotha lifted his hand in a most theatrical way, looking like a death's figure trying choke the scenery with the darkness of his presence. His craggy mouth parted with the awful incisors breeding fear.   
“Hold it! Hold it! Itegotha said. “What it that out there? Someone is waiting outside! In the moments!”  
He followed with a veering glare though the attic window while staring at the persistent woman in the middle of connecting cables and drawing wires like some mad scientist on a gamble.   
“That is the same one I've seen in room one-thirteen,” Borax said to Ithegotha. “She is very dangerous.”  
“Is she?” Ithegotha said.   
“She may find us here in the darkness.”  
“Then we must go to her...”  
Ithegotha watched like a predator on the edge, his frame moving out slightly, getting his first glimpse of the meddling woman. Two other old men gathered around her... the same men who eluded the Dwellers before.   
The creature lingered in the window of time with its hanging teeth, wondering what matter of beastly woman this was. This creature did not have eyes, or what could be eyes, only the surrounding teeth in its gaping mouth. Or could it have another way of sensing?   
It made a ghastly sound as its hollowed mouth yawned open with the circumference of molars, dripping, oozing. Its head twisted to the archer who recoiled in disgust.   
TJ thought Ithegotha looked like a stalking corpse, its emancipated limbs thin as toothpicks.   
“Do you know this person?” Itegotha said. 

Chapter forty-three  
“What's it to you?” TJ said.   
“I will not ask again!”   
The other Dwellers lifted their foetid fingers, a crippling sight of ghoulish, stilted members reaching over him with clutching embrace. They pushed through the strange view of the Trinity Court.  
TJ couldn't resist the powerful grasp of interfering creatures forcing him to look out the window of time. Their sloshing tongues hanged with a devil's delight. TJ scraped his feet while feasting his eyes on the view of Trinity Court.  
He could see the Doctor making progress with the TARDIS and some smaller structure, though no idea came to him regarding what it was. She resembled a force of nature. It was like seeing her through a chaos.  
“Tell us!” Ithegotha growled.   
“I know her,” TJ confessed.   
“And the blue box is yours?”   
J'Kaox rattled the reluctant TJ as a storm of fingers collapsed around the nape of his neck. TJ wondered if the creature will break his head like a crushed grape.   
Not only that, the thing's mouth was elongating like castle gates, lowering enough to swallow the archer's head.   
As if attempting to eat him. Or feed on his thoughts like a predator taking a victim.   
Those monstrous creatures ambled around him like grotesque goblins. Their anorexic limbs hoisted above his shoulders as it continued to lean over him like a skeleton dangling in nightmare.   
“Yes, the box is ours,” TJ answered. “It's a time-traveling machine.”  
“It is good you confirm this,” Itegotha said. “You may get to live for a short while.”  
The others crowded around him like school bullies, their toothy features matched with the iconic black skin which soaked with an oily slick. Their poking faces glittered like sharp knives.   
They made clicking, clacking sounds in an old language TJ didn't understand. It sounded like fleeting crickets shouting back and forth. They moved like deadly shadows.   
“Take him with us,” Ithegotha said. “We have arrangements to make.”  
“Very good,” J'Kaox agreed.   
“We will make the exchange for the box with our captive,” Itegotha said.   
“She'll never do it!” TJ shouted.  
“Silence him!”  
The cluster of hands grappled the archer as they dragged him away from the bay window on the bridge. They flustered like crawling things as they moved towards the waves of the dimensions.  
They looked like they climbed out of a bone-yard, their figures covered with what looked like tar. Seeping, slothful.   
Steady, slick figures, they looked like they stepped out of a Salvador Dali painting. They heaved with boasting movement, their darting savagery ready to meet the Doctor. They were Dwellers of darkness. 

Chapter forty-four  
Outside, literally working against time, the Doctor added more cannibalized parts to the growing project at the foot of the TARDIS.   
It was an extension of wires, switches and radar dishes. She moved like a scientist over an experiment. Would the Manipulating Teleporter be ready for the confrontation? Will the TARDIS?   
She told her friends that she was creating a booster for her TARDIS.  
As she dispensed the long, black coat, still wearing the white blouse, she looked casual now while propping the outer clothing on Felton's arm.   
“I'm getting a rotting feeling being out here,” Felton said.  
“You say that all the time,” Kent replied. “Remember that time you were on the roller coaster ride?”  
“I don't like it here. Feels like something is watching us.”  
“You could be right.”  
“It's like there are eyes through the walls,” Felton said.   
“You know? I get that feeling too. I don't like it. Maybe the walls are alive!”  
Felton eventually put her coat away somewhere else along the TARDIS door. The Doctor's hair trickled around her neck with civilized beauty. She doted around with great concentration.   
Unfazed. Always concentrating.   
She could hear the clicking approach of the Dwellers slitherinhd towards her like dripping shadows, their crawling figures shifted in bone-wracking precision. They moved like thrusting things through the blur.   
Ithegotha lingered before her in a mountainous scowl, a lizardly frame complete with a potbellied lump as if he's eaten too much. The Doctor lifted her head when she heard the noise.   
Their faces collected with a audience of teeth that could tear a victim with ease. With them, caught between their willowy hands which were sylphlike, the creatures brought TJ as a guest.   
“Oh, there you are,” the Doctor said. “Thought you'd never get here.”  
“We have prepared to make a bargain,” Ithegotha said.   
“I don't make deals with parasites,” the Doctor snapped. “I've already sent a message to you.”  
“Don't listen to them,” TJ said. “Save yourself.”  
“I wouldn't think of doing that, my good friend” the Doctor replied.   
“It's good to see you too.”  
“Enough idle chatter!” Ithegotha glowered.   
“You invaded this place, and stole their minds. You keep people in long sleep while you feast. You DON'T get to make demands,” the Doctor barked.   
The Dwellers pulled TJ to the forefront to make sure he was in full display to the woman. Their longish fingers settled over his shoulders to keep him from running, gripping harder in a fighting grasp.   
The Chinese archer stifled beneath their hateful hold, fighting against their outstretched hands, straining, struggling. He became a prisoner of fate. His captors grew into a cloud of anger.   
“I have your companion,” Itegotha said. “We make a deal.”  
“I doubt it matters. I'll dispose you.”  
“Your threats mean nothing!”  
“Why don't you take your looting elsewhere? The universe is plenty big for everyone,” the Doctor said. “Instead you thrive on the weak.”  
“Will you make the exchange?”  
“No deal!”   
“Then I will kill him!” Itegotha said.   
His fingers lifted with an angst for hunger, creeping over the archer's neck for the fatal stroke. Though TJ recoiled slightly, he seemed to welcome death as he was a soldier all his life.   
“No! Wait!” the Doctor said.   
“Give me your box.”  
“You don't seem to understand. The TARDIS is the one and only of its kind. And I'm the only one pilot for it. You wouldn't be able to fly the ship because you're like children with tiny minds.”  
“Don't try to insult me!”  
“I have been together with the TARDIS for a long time, so I've become very attached to it. This is the most unique thing in the universe. Its travel is poetry, its interior is beauty!”  
“It doesn't concern me.”  
“You could almost say the TARDIS and I are long-time companions. It would be lost without me...”  
“There were three of you,” Ithegotha growled.   
Felton stood alongside the Doctor, looking a little mousy, but he struggled to look brave like the Doctor. Though he was more of a frightful coward than anything else.   
Kent was not standing along with her.   
“Yes, I know,” the Doctor said. “Throw the switch now!”  
Kent had stepped back into the TARDIS while the others were in conversation. The Doctor mentioned something about playing for time, and it was enough for Kent to hover over the console waiting for the order.   
The Doctor told him which switch to throw, and he remembered the layout. He only had to recall one switch that the Doctor pointed out to him. Kent threw a switch on the console, and a loud humming sounds echoed from it like the depths of technology.   
It seemed like the TARDIS was shouting at the invaders. The loud, booming sound erupted while an explosive doorway shifted in the middle of Trinity Court. The scuttling winds of time grew stronger.  
Lifting her hand to signal for TJ not to struggle, the Doctor stepped forward with all the confidence of the world. She resembled a hurricane of power ready to knock them down.  
“What did you do?” Itegotha said.   
“I'm boosting the TARDIS' power to send signals enough to counter your effects on the Dwellers,” the Doctor said.   
“S-Stop it!”  
“It'll be like pushing you through a thick wall and shutting it behind you,” the Doctor said. “I'm creating a cage of time around you.”  
“No!”  
“You put this place in peril while you engorge in your greed. You're literally mind diggers! I'm not having that!”  
“What's happening?” Felton said.   
“It's like punching your finger through a sheet of paper,” the Doctor said. “It's a tear in space I'm creating. And it's going to pull the Dwellers in!”  
The TARDIS was weakening the Dwellers. It was leeching off them like a power source. In doing so, the victims of the long sleep began to wake up. Their sleeping forms snapped up from their residential beds.   
The Dwellers no longer had a hold on these people.   
Surrounding the Doctor were growing blotches of darkness, clouds of movements growing more clear. They were shadows trickling between the buildings, growing into more concise forms. It was like watching people stepping out of water.   
The people in the retirement home began to come back to the waking dead. They were coming out of their long sleep.   
It was a rebirth for the residents of Ravenscar Manor.

Chapter forty-five  
The creatures glanced around too like a frightened cats in a middle of a dog pen. It looked like they were going to get ripped apart by the smothering blackness breaking into different shapes, leaping, shouting.   
“You're not even the bogeyman!” the Doctor barked. “Just petty thieves stealing from children! And old people!”  
“Be careful, Doctor,” TJ warned. “You're going to get a rise out of them.”  
The Dwellers knotted together in anger, twisting, swaying with not-so-gentle scowls. Their emancipated forms recoiled from the changes in the city surroundings.   
Circling around Itegotha, and the few Dwellers, countless shadows ripped through the air like growing blotches. They moved like a haunting storm while the Dwellers barked.   
The TARDIS was boosting the power to the gateway behind the Dwellers thanks in part to the Manipulating Teleporter.   
The sheer shape of the doorway continued on with a merry-go-round stampede, growing clearer, shifting out of the passages of time. They moved away from the cloud of confusion.   
The Doctor was ready to send the Dwellers away.

Chapter fifty-six  
The figures stepped out of their rooms, struggling in their waking moments. They were not shadows, but people of the retirement home. They came back from the long sleep thanks to the Doctor's ingenuity.   
“The TARDIS is telepathic,” the Doctor said to Ithegotha. “So it woke everyone up at the same time. You have no more control over them!”  
“You'll pay for this!” Ithegotha said.  
“My TARDIS acted as an alarm clock for the people. There's nothing for you here anymore!”  
The retirement home was making noise again.   
Someone screamed.  
The Doctor heard the woman from room forty-five shouting as she pointed at the crude caricatures of the Dwellers.   
“It's them! The things from the dark!” she cried.   
The Doctor stepped up in hopes of getting attention with her announcement. She could see the residents were snapping out of their disoriented jarring, their faces taunt with growing anxiety.  
Kent stepped out of the TARDIS as he could see the people coming back to their waking moments.   
So Kent shouted at the people: “Don't be afraid of these creatures!”  
The Dwellers began to pivot, scrambling from the gateway ripped open by the TARDIS.   
While the retirement folks surrounded the creatures in a big circle inside Trinity Court, a balance of power returned in the people's favor. It was like seeing one, big happy family again.   
Their Dwellers were scarecrow-skinny forms shifted their gaping mouths: so many teeth! Their unsettling molars twitched with hunger. So much hunger.   
People became afraid of them.   
“They're just Dwellers who don't belong here!” the Doctor shouted. “Cast them out!”  
“Who are you, miss?” someone shouted from the crowd of retirees.  
“Your salvation!”  
“Listen to her!” Kent added. “She'll help you!”  
Felton added, “Tell those monsters where they can go! Cast them out! They don't belong here!”  
TJ's freed hands shot up straight to belt J'Kaox in his potbellied frame, hitting hard enough before clearing out. TJ didn't want to be in the middle of the volley of attacks chalked up by the mob.   
The very mob the Doctor created.   
One of the old people picked up an ashtray as he threw it at one of the Dwellers, hitting it. The Dwellers were no longer unseen by them.   
He shouted, “Be gone, you uglies! We don't want the likes of you here!”  
“Monsters!” someone else cried.   
“I'll kill you for this!” Itegotha shouted.   
“Drive them out back into that doorway!” the Doctor shouted. “Send them back to their home!”   
“You're not scary anymore!” the woman from room forty-five shouted. 

Chapter forty-seven  
The Dwellers stirred near the wounded cut exploding inside the recreational room sprawling with tables and chairs. You could see the seething doorway whirling with enough winds pulling the chairs back until they fell to the black hole. The tables shifted too.  
Now, fighting against the winds of time, the Dwellers tried to escape the gripping reflexes of the opening vortex, slipping, sliding, with a hurricane of wind. With a struggle, the Dwellers were slowly being pulled into it.   
“Tell the other people not to get near the vortex!” the Doctor said to Felton. “I don't want them to be sucked into a mini-black hole!”  
“Consider it done,” Felton said.   
“It's starting to pull in the Dwellers. Make sure you don't go within fifteen yards of the vortex or the pull will become to great!”  
It became a celebration once the evildoers struggled against the temperamental whirlwind. Felton seemed scared to death of the contracting doorway which convulsed with cosmic power.   
There grew more dangerous around the wounded cut in space as the Doctor boosted the TARDIS to its fullest stretch, pouring more energy into keeping the gates open. You could see the twisting, outermost space waiting for the victims to falling into like a living pit.  
The TARDIS sustained the hole in time and space like it was going to jettison some unwanted garbage into it. That proverbial garbage was the Dwellers who could no longer avoid the pull.   
So much power. It took so much power for the TARDIS. The Doctor returned to the TARDIS to finish the job.   
Several residents of Ravenscar Manor began to wake up from idle thoughts. They were no longer prisoners of the ancient darkness. The old folks stirred from the nightmare which held them.   
Kent and Felton watched as their reinforcements struggled down the hallways, people fueling the empty spaces for the first time since the empty building spoke. Some of them rolled in wheelchairs.   
“Get out of our building!” Kent said.   
“That's right!” Felton added. “Stop bothering us!”   
“Bloody limeys!”   
Their shifting forms collected around the main action inside the Trinity Court. Roars of thunder could be heard and the stealing winds burst from the vortex created by the Doctor.   
“Push them back inside the space!” the Doctor shouted.   
Kent Dashing waved the others on like a general on the battlefield. His hair fell into loose wisps while his jagged shoulders grew stronger in strength. Not bad for someone who just turned sixty-eight last April.  
The Dwellers hissed like fierce animals, their mouths shuddered with mountains of teeth. Their faces creaked with seething snarls as the familiar people returned to the large part of the retirement home interior where Kent and Felton stood.   
“What in God's name is that?” the woman from room fifty-five said.   
“That is the reason why you all went into sleep for a week!” Kent shouted.  
“They looks like demons!”  
“Never mind that! Tell them they got no business here!” Kent said.  
Kent turned to his friend who stood at his side with maddening loyalty. His face twisted into a grin which broadened from one end to the other. Felton knew something devious was brewing in Kent's thoughts.   
“Do you remember that old movie I did a long time ago? It was called the Flying Menace?” Kent said.   
“Yeah, sure,” Felton said.   
“It's time to bring back the good ol' days,” Kent said.   
“You're crazy.”  
Kent turned to the others slowly dredging into the room where the creatures were huddled like hornets inside a nest. One wasn't sure to shove a stick in something like a hive.   
Felton, surprisingly, was the first.   
“Drive them out!” Kent shouted. “Don't let them near you! They're monsters!”  
Felton picked up an empty bottle from the nearby vending machine, chucking it in a deliberate straight line at the Dwellers. The shifting, seeping creatures howled with a cry.   
Now the other old folks gathered together to follow Felton's example, their mobbing crowd seeing their new enemy as a target. With a sudden dash, Felton grabbed a couple more empty bottles in his arms to continue the wreckage of anger.   
The old people of Ravenscar became a fighting machine. 

Chapter forty-eight  
Kent got a bottle from the side of the vending machine too, and whipped it into the one named Ithegotha. It was a good, clean swipe that would have given headaches.   
The other people collected around as they picked up small trinkets before throwing them in an bombardment. These retired actors were not the kind to get pushed around!  
Another toss!  
A bottle chucked.   
“I ought to be nominated for this!” Kent said to his good friend. “The greatest act I've ever done! Rallying a crowd!”  
“I concur,” Felton said.   
“And you, my faithful sidekick, give me the best support!”  
“Sidekick? I wouldn't go that far!”  
“If only the other producers and directors could see me now! Art imitates life imitates art!” Kent said as he threw another bottle.   
Someone threw an ashtray, and other old people gathered in the large room with their reckless behavior. Some women grew more feisty, tossing anything tossed from ashtrays to bottles.   
The woman from room fifty-five shouted, “Get rid of them filthy buggers!”  
“That's telling them, Nancy!” Kent shouted. “Keep plugging away!”  
The Doctor hoped the other people knew better not to get too close to the vortex where the winds were strongest, grasping and gripping like fiery fingers of destruction. She could see the Dwellers being pulled back.  
In layman's terms, it'll be like taping the piece of paper that she punched a hole through. It'll be a little stiching here and there. The Doctor would be the one to tie the knot on this doorway through time and space.   
“It's working!” the Doctor said. “The Dwellers are losing footing!”  
The Dwellers felt the storm of paltry scrapes and debris thrown at them in a thankless whirl. The Doctor continued to work her controls from the TARDIS while pulling the unwanted creatures into the vortex.   
“You will not do this!” Ithegotha shouted.   
“You already lost!” the Doctor shouted. “Now I'm going to put you away forever!”

Chapter forty-nine  
The Doctor bit on her lips as she watched as the current dwellers stirring back into the doorway behind them. It would send them back into the depths of horror. Prisoners of time forever.   
The TARDIS was going to help her to get rid of the parasites. She pressed the right buttons on the console to send the madness back into the dark. The Doctor threw several switches together.   
Their long-limbed frames scrambled like ghoulish things, their hanging fingers creaking, mouths and teeth snarling. It was like watching spiders moving, lingering and moving back into their cave.   
“Blithering fools!” the Doctor shouted. “Why can't they admit they lost?”  
The collapsing doorway pulled, tugged at the Dwellers, luring them into the other dimension which beckoned to them. Their shifting footsteps dragged while the eye of the vortex nagged at their struggling forms.   
Soon they would be swept into another place.   
Another time.   
Closed off.   
Crawling back into the doorways of time like simpering beasts, they did not have the strength to fight back anymore. Everyone woke up from their deep sleep. The tides had turned on the creatures.   
Now the Dwellers found them against odds when the approaching circle of people hurling a storm of might. The defeated creatures wrenched themselves into vortex out of time.   
The Dwellers had no friends here.  
The people of the retirement home stayed together to fight off the bully. It worked. 

Chapter fifty  
The old folks of Ravenscar were not frightened anymore.   
They did not need to hide from the shadows. The people were no longer pulled by the creeping nothingness.   
As they grew more embroiled in a lively stage, they lifted fists and voices. They moved in numbers.   
In a surprising terse moment, the opposing Dwellers faltered as they snapped with shark-like teeth. Ithegotha remained calm as his seething face broke into an abyss of teeth.   
They slipped into the vortex. The winds welcomed them into the next dimension.  
Nothing was left of the Dwellers who fell through the vortex, being pulled into the nightmare dimension. Some might call the dimension “hell.” The Doctor did not believe in such things.   
It was just a place where the bad guys went.   
The TARDIS gave enough power to keep the vortex open long enough before the shifting, warping doorway closed on the creatures. Where? The Doctor did not know.   
She thought she saw a glimpse of greater horrors inside the vortex taking hold of the Dwellers like clutches of madness.   
The Dwellers made a stretch of sound which whined with a high-pitched growl, growing louder. It was a thrusting noise surrounding the Dwellers which flooded their voices.   
The Dwellers disappeared from the Trinity Court area.   
There was nothing left of them.  
The Doctor said, “They slipped into another dimension. The vortex simply folded space around them. We won't see them again. I made sure of it.”  
The Doctor watched as the doorway folded into nothing. It was closed forever. And with it, the Dwellers were gone for good.   
She stranded them in perpetual darkness. 

Chapter fifty-one  
TJ offered a far-off look in his eyes like a traveler who grew tired of the constant moving around. It was like being nomadic without a purpose. Meandering through the stars in a rickety blue box.   
It settled on his face: a sadness. Wanting to belong somewhere else. His hand shifted to pull the quiver over his shoulder with a slight nudge, but he didn't want to seem pessimistic.   
The Doctor reached for something propped near her, fingers coiling around a wooden bow. She looked like a caretaker who handed a beloved item to the archer.   
“I believe this is yours,” the Doctor said.   
“Ah, bringing back an old friend. Thank you,” TJ said.   
“Some friends are worth keeping.”  
“How were you able to find the Dwellers so fast?”  
“I tracked down the anomaly because they leave traces behind every time they step through a dimension. It's like stepping into the water and leaving ripples. I was able to track the ripples to Ithegotha and the others.”  
“That makes sense.”  
“Echoes in darkness. It's not difficult to track down once I knew how they thought and moved,” the Doctor explained.   
“And that wounded cut in the room?”  
“I sent them to a special place,” the Doctor said. “They're stranded and they won't be bothering the human race anymore.”  
“So you didn't kill them?”  
“I'm not commenting on that.”  
With a distracted look, TJ seemed to be thinking about something else. His hands wrestled the book as he looked like a small child trying to get a word edgewise.   
“Hello,” Kent said to TJ. “You're the Doctor's friend? You're lucky to have her.”  
“I know. I keep reminding myself that every day,” TJ said.   
“If I had a copy of a movie I've done, I'd give one to you for free,” Kent said.   
“Shameless promotion!” Felton commented.   
“I got to start somewhere!”  
“Thank you,” TJ said.   
“Y'know, you were pretty good with that karate chop. I saw that,” Kent pointed out. “I think we might have a place for you in the movies.”  
“Really?” TJ said.  
“They don't have a lot of Asian people in the movies, you know? Plenty of whitewashing going on in Hollywood. That sort of thing.”  
“Making movies?” TJ said. “That could be a good career move...”  
“Stop it!” the Doctor said with disapproval.   
“Let's help the others back to their rooms!” Felton said to Kent. “The folks here are still pretty confused about what happened.”  
“I'm going to get back to the party,” Kent said. “You're welcomed to join us too.”  
“Thank you,” the Doctor said.   
Kent and Felton departed from the Chinese archer as they joined the crowd of disoriented retirees. TJ seemed to be a troubled man in a lost kingdom. His face resembled someone plagued with the strange melody of sadness. It was a familiar theme: homesickness.   
“I think it might be a good time to go,” the Doctor said.   
“I agree,” TJ said.   
“No regrets leaving here?”  
“None at all.”  
“Good!”  
She threw a glance to towards the lofty stampede of festivities in the retirement home. The old folks joined together in their belated celebration without the worry of invaders.   
There were no more wrinkles in time.   
No more monsters. 

Chapter fifty-two  
When a good noise returned to the retirement home, rising to the living testimony of good cheer, TJ found it was no longer needed for him or the Doctor to stay. His thoughts turned to a different place.   
The Chinese archer seemed to be dreaming about somewhere else. He noticed how the people returned to the roots of their festivities once the crude enemy was removed from their building.   
Now the good cheer painted the mood with a vibrant beat, and the modest exchanges of talk bumped faster. There were artists, writers and painters offering a comradeship.   
TJ and the Doctor stood at the edge of the crowds, her womanly streak feathered with the long stretch of black hair hanging to the middle of her back.   
Her features offered a thrashing intellect while she remained poised along the edges like an objective observer. Like an outsider. She bared what was a killer smile that made her look lovely.   
“Anything wrong?” the Doctor chimed.   
“I don't know,” TJ said.   
“Never knew you to be dramatic.”  
“Memories of old. I'm missing the heartbeat of China.”  
“There's so many things out there to explore. The ravages of the suns, the plight of vortexes or the wayward of the nebulae,” the Doctor said.  
“None of it really matches the hanging lanterns or the toro giving off lights which look like stone gargoyles protecting the homeland. Or the beautiful rooftops of the pagodas.”  
“I'm itching to go somewhere,” the Doctor said. “Sometimes I can't just stand around too long in one place.”  
“Doctor?” TJ said.   
“Hmm?”  
“It's all well and done here. There is something I would like to do.”  
“You seem to be a man in an awful hurry,” the Doctor said.   
“Well, there's no danger to these people, right?”  
“There should be safe unless there's some unknown creature I don't know about lurking somewhere. These people won't be bothered today, tomorrow or any other day.”  
“I want to go back to China.”  
“What?”   
“It's been a while.”  
“What brought this on?” the Doctor asked.   
“I don't know. It's... what's the western word for it? Nostalgia. Yes, that's right. Nostalgia. I want to see my brother.”  
“Of course you do.”  
“You're all right with this?” TJ said.  
“I hope you're not thinking of leaving me?”  
“I just want to make sure that my brother is all right. I guess you could say I'm homesick. That's the word for it, I believe.”  
“You don't need to give me a reason,” the Doctor said. “I'll be more than happy to take you.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Not to worry,” the Doctor said. “It happens to the best of us. We all yearn to be in some place we're familiar with. To find our home roots again.”  
The travelers decided to make a departure, stepping back into the blue box which seemed out of place with the rest of the festivities.   
Perhaps a little undignified exit. She preferred to slip away quietly rather than repeating goodbyes to everyone.   
With a booming sound, the blue box struggled with a mayhem of commotion that sang with a farewell. Casting off in a poetic fazing, throwing itself into the reaches of time and space, the TARDIS disappeared into the void beyond. A slight wheezing could be still heard lingering.  
It shifted into the scraps of the universe like a maddening storm of movements. It fought like a soldier through the array of space seeking another place as it reeled around the far corners and gripped the greeting abyss with another calling.

Chapter fifty-three  
Kent watched the retirement home returning to normal after the people settled back in their places. They went back to the usual routine of eating bad food in the cafeteria to scuffling about in the garden courtyard.   
Whatever was the foul menace plagued this building, it was no longer here. There were no more shadows dragging on their own, and the walls looked more pleasing. Even Ernie got the beach ball back with him.   
No doubt most people had enough sleep to last them several lifetimes. Kent could see the people exchanging small talk and patting each other on the backs for comfort.   
It was a tough struggle, but nothing was ever too much for the people at Ravenscar.  
Kent felt relieved that it was all done, and he will go back to his room also. Though he didn't have a chance to say good-bye to the Doctor and her friend TJ.   
They slipped into that magical blue box before vanishing from the stomping grounds. It became a slow exit leaving the others bewildered by her presence. Such a charming machine.   
Where did she come from? Why did she help? Though she left this place in a mess. They'll have to clean it up this afternoon, or perhaps tomorrow. Someone could have a heart attack seeing the toppled tables like this.   
“You all right?” Felton said.   
“I'm just thinking,” Kent said.   
Felton hiccuped, “Yeah, don't go there. Just don't take too much stock into what happened.”  
“What about the Doctor? We don't even know that much about her? And she went away like nothing's happened. Who is she?” Kent asked.  
“I think she's one of those people who wants to remain an enigma,” Felton added.  
“That's true. Sometimes I don't trust her with a ten foot pole. She could be a psychopath,” Kent admitted.  
“Don't think about her too much. And you'll be fine.”  
“Sound advice. I think it's a good day for it,” Kent said.   
“For what?”   
“I'm going to dig out the old movies I got and run them through the movie projector that no one uses here in the private theater,” Kent said.   
“I didn't know you kept any of your movies,” Felton said. “I prefer to forget all of mine.”  
“I'm nostalgic.”  
“I'll bring the popcorn.”  
Kent shook hands with his friend as gave him a curt nod before Felton shuffled to the lunch room to get microwave the popcorn. Knowing him, he'd probably put the food through a nuclear blast and overcook.   
It was a good feeling to have like the action he was performed on the old movie sets—the steely, daring man in the center of the show. He liked the idea of finding his acting stint again. It was good while it lasted. 

Chapter fifty-four  
After a few more cheers, and good words, the crowd dispersed back in slow droves into their rooms. Some meandered down the hallways where the building felt safe again.   
This retirement home felt like a “home” again. Kent noticed the sunlight falling to the floor with a brightness.   
He knew the movie night would be a good way for people to get together, and the other has-been actors, stuck in this dismal place, would go along with the flow of a movie festival. They could relate with ease.   
However, Kent noticed a clouded figure down the hall. Standing in front of the blurred light, like angelic bliss, someone moved down the stretch towards Kent. He couldn't see who it was, a little difficult to make it out with his squinting eyes.   
He recongnized her.   
Kent watched as the figure trotted down towards him, and he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the growing brightness. He politely called the stranger out, though recognized the person making shuffling footsteps.   
He was so surprised to see this person that his eyes threatened to tear, but he held fast to show he was manly enough. Didn't know why he had to act so foolish for.   
“Corliss?” Kent said. “Is that you, pet?”

THE END

Finished date: April 26, 2015  
Approximately 25,614 words


End file.
